#branded entrance mats

[briancampbell0706]

The History of Anti-Fatigue Mats ?

In our modern world, standing for long hours at work has become an all-too-common reality. Whether it’s retail employees serving customers, chefs preparing meals, or factory workers on production lines, many individuals experience fatigue from prolonged standing. This need for comfort and support led to the development of Anti Fatigue Mats — innovative solutions designed to alleviate discomfort and improve productivity. In this blog, we’ll explore the history of Anti Fatigue Mats, their evolution, and how they compare to other mats like Yoga Mats and Pet Mats.

The Emergence of Anti-Fatigue Mats

Early 20th Century: The Beginning of Awareness

The concept of mats designed to reduce fatigue can be traced back to the early 20th century when industrialization brought significant changes to work environments. Workers began spending longer hours on their feet in factories and warehouses, leading to increased awareness of the physical strain associated with standing for extended periods.

During this time, simple mats made from rubber or foam were introduced as a means to provide some cushioning for workers. These early mats were basic and did not specifically target fatigue reduction; however, they laid the groundwork for future developments in anti-fatigue technology.

Mid 20th Century: Advancements in Material Science

The mid-20th century saw significant advancements in material science, paving the way for more effective solutions. As the demand for comfortable working conditions grew, manufacturers began experimenting with different materials that offered better support and cushioning.

During this era, the introduction of polyurethane foam transformed the mat industry. This material provided superior durability and comfort compared to rubber, making it a popular choice for Anti Fatigue Mats. Manufacturers began designing mats specifically for the needs of workers, focusing on ergonomic benefits and comfort.

1980s: The Rise of Ergonomics

By the 1980s, the field of ergonomics gained prominence, emphasizing the importance of designing tools and workspaces that promote comfort and efficiency. The relationship between worker fatigue and productivity became clearer, leading to an increased focus on solutions that could enhance comfort.

During this period, Anti Fatigue Mats became more specialized, with features designed to promote micro-movements in the feet and legs. These mats were engineered to encourage subtle shifts in weight, helping to activate muscles that would otherwise remain inactive during prolonged standing. The introduction of textured surfaces and varying thicknesses contributed to the growing popularity of anti-fatigue mats in workplaces across the United States.

The Evolution of Anti-Fatigue Mats

1990s: Customization and Branding

As industries grew and diversified, so did the need for tailored solutions. By the 1990s, manufacturers began offering customizable options for Anti Fatigue Mats. Businesses could order mats featuring their company logos, colors, and designs, allowing them to enhance branding while providing comfort to employees.

This period also saw the introduction of mats specifically designed for different environments. For instance, mats for kitchens became increasingly popular among chefs and restaurant staff, while mats designed for retail spaces catered to the unique needs of store employees.

2000s: The Green Revolution

The early 2000s marked a significant shift towards environmentally friendly practices across various industries. Consumers began seeking products made from sustainable materials, prompting manufacturers to adapt their offerings. Many Anti Fatigue Mats transitioned to eco-friendly materials, reducing the environmental impact while maintaining their effectiveness.

During this time, the ergonomic benefits of Anti Fatigue Mats became widely recognized. Businesses began investing in these mats as a way to improve employee wellness, reduce absenteeism, and enhance overall productivity. As research into workplace ergonomics continued to evolve, the demand for anti-fatigue solutions surged.

The Present Day: A Staple in Workplaces

Today, Anti Fatigue Mats are a staple in a wide range of industries. From healthcare to hospitality, manufacturing to retail, these mats have become essential tools for improving comfort and productivity. With numerous options available, consumers can choose from various materials, sizes, and designs to meet their specific needs.

Technological Innovations

Advancements in technology have also contributed to the evolution of Anti Fatigue Mats. Manufacturers are now incorporating cutting-edge materials and designs that enhance performance. Features like antimicrobial properties, easy cleaning surfaces, and improved durability have become common in modern anti-fatigue mats.

The use of advanced materials such as gel-infused foams has further elevated the comfort level of these mats. These innovations allow for better weight distribution and enhanced support, making standing for long periods more manageable.

How Anti-Fatigue Mats Compare to Other Mats

While Anti Fatigue Mats are specifically designed for comfort during prolonged standing, other types of mats serve different purposes.

Yoga Mats

Yoga Mats are designed to provide a stable surface for various poses and exercises. Made from materials like PVC or natural rubber, yoga mats focus on grip and flexibility rather than fatigue reduction. While they offer some cushioning, they are not suitable for prolonged standing like anti-fatigue mats. However, many individuals who practice yoga benefit from the stability and support that yoga mats provide during workouts.

Pet Mats

Pet Mats are designed for pets, providing a comfortable space for them to rest, eat, or play. These mats come in various materials and thicknesses to suit different needs. However, like yoga mats, they do not offer the ergonomic benefits associated with Anti Fatigue Mats.

Key Differences

Purpose: Anti-fatigue mats focus on comfort and fatigue reduction for standing workers, while yoga mats support exercise and pet mats provide comfort for pets.

Materials: Anti-fatigue mats use high-density foams and gels, while yoga mats are typically made of rubber or PVC, and pet mats can vary widely based on their intended use.

Design Features: Anti-fatigue mats promote micro-movements and provide superior cushioning, whereas yoga mats prioritize grip, and pet mats focus on comfort.

Conclusion

The history of Anti Fatigue Mats is a testament to the evolution of workplace wellness. From their humble beginnings in the early 20th century to their current status as essential tools for comfort, these mats have transformed the way we approach prolonged standing.

As advancements in technology continue to shape the industry, consumers can expect even greater innovations in anti-fatigue solutions. For individuals and businesses alike, investing in Anti Fatigue Mats is not just about comfort — it’s about promoting health, productivity, and overall well-being in the workplace.

Explore the range of Anti Fatigue Mats available at US Mat Market and discover how they can improve your standing experience today!

[lyncotek]

Introduction

This article will discover How Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats Can Improve Safety. In industrial environments, retaining costs under control and visitor and worker safety paramount are crucial issues. Strategically setting outdoor entrance mats is one often-not-noted method that efficiently addresses both troubles. This mattress reduces the cost of maintenance and overhaul by preventing falls and spills by preserving the environment around indoors for longer

Understanding the Diversity of Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats

There are numerous types of business outdoor entrance mats, each made to fit unique situations and necessities. Options starting from absorbent mats that take in moisture to scraper mats that successfully dispose of debris from footwear are to be had to meet any need. Aesthetic choices, weather, and foot traffic quantity are only a few of the factors to recollect even as choosing the correct mat.

Enhanced Safety with Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats

The primary purpose of outside entrance mats is to improve safety by using reducing the threat of journeys, falls, and slips. This matting drastically decrease the hazard of mishaps by using imparting an extra traction-rich floor, particularly in damp or slick circumstances. They also keep footwear from being tracked interior and developing problems by collecting moisture and particles from shoes.

How Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats Reduce Maintenance Costs

Over time, you may store quite a little cash on protection by investing in great outdoor front mats. These mats protect indoor flooring surfaces from dust and moisture at the entrance, increasing their durability and decreasing the want for common cleaning. By doing this, exertion fees are decreased and the demand for expensive cleaning resources and gear is reduced as nicely.

Factors to Consider When Choosing Commercial Outdoor Entrance Mats

When deciding on access mats for commercial locations, there are a few matters to not forget. These include elements together with placement and length to guarantee top-of-the-line insurance and efficacy, sturdiness to face up to sturdy foot visitors and awful weather, and customization selections to meet branding specifications.

Installation and Maintenance Tips

To maximize the use and durability of outside entrance mats, proper installation and maintenance are crucial. By using the counseled installation techniques, you could lessen the hazard of journeys and falls by ensuring the mats are firmly and flatly hooked up. Moreover, frequent upkeep and cleansing, such as vacuuming, shaking, and washing, contribute to their persevered efficacy.

Cost-Effectiveness and Return on Investment

Good entrance mats may be steeply-priced up the front, but in the long run, the benefits heaps outweigh the price. These mats provide corporations a robust go-back on funding because of the reality they minimize place and tear on interior surfaces, decrease the want for ground cleanings, and avoid injuries that could cause pricey legal responsibility claims.

Environmental Sustainability

Eco-friendly access mat solutions are developing in reputation as sustainability will become an extra considerable issue for companies. These mats, which might be lengthy-lasting and products of recycled substances, help business sustainability objectives in addition to making indoor space purifiers.

Future Trends in Entrance Mat Technology

It is anticipated that future developments in entrance mat generation will concentrate on improving effectiveness and overall performance. Mats with superior dirt and moisture retention and much less complex protection will quit result from material and design enhancements. Real-time mat overall performance monitoring and management also can be made possible via integration with clever building systems.

Conclusion

Commercial outdoor entrance mats play a crucial position in improving safety and decreasing preservation prices in business spaces. By preventing slips and falls, minimizing dirt and moisture access, and defensive indoor surfaces, those mats provide a cost-effective approach to commonplace facility management demanding situations.

FAQs

How do outdoor entrance mats improve safety?

Can entrance mats really reduce maintenance costs?

What types of materials are used in commercial entrance mats?

How often should outdoor entrance mats be cleaned?

Are there any regulations regarding entrance mats for commercial spaces?

[dollgxtz]

Sleepy Crow

Word Count: 1.8k words

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, noncon, mentions of breeding, pet names such as kitten, sweetie, darling, reader is somewhat drugged but its her sleep meds!

AN: Hi all! This isn't my first time writing fanfics but I noticed a lack of Sylus fics with a darker undertone ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ". PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the tags and if this isn't something that interests you or is potentially triggering, please do not interact! I get this isn't everyone's cup of tea but this is a fic for people who like darker romance stuff!! Please enjoy, and I AM taking requests as I really want to get back into writing again. Do not hold back, this is a safe place! Ty!! <333

Sylus trudged through the pouring rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair matted against his forehead. The drops were heavy and unrelenting, pelting against the pavement and creating small rivers that flowed along the gutters. The barely lit streetlights of the N109 zone cast an eerie glow on the slick surfaces, reflecting off the wet asphalt like a distorted mirror.

As the man approached his mansion, he couldn't help but feel relieved. The warm glow of the lights shining through the windows beckoned him home. He fumbled with the keypad to the door, his fingers slightly numb from the cold, before finally hearing the click that beckoned his entrance.

The sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows followed him, a steady drumming that seemed to fill every corner of the place. He took off his sodden jacket and hung it up, feeling the weight of it pulling him down. He walked through the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors, trying his hardest to be quiet. Mephisto was perched on his cage (not that he was ever really in it, it was more for decor) tilting his head when he saw Sylus brush past him but not making any sound himself.

He made his way to the bedroom chambers, deciding to make sure you were where you belonged. Peeking his head in the bedroom doorway, he saw your sleeping figure, chest rising ever so slightly with each breath. He smirked, closing the door behind him as he entered. He was happy you finally seemed to be getting some rest.

Your insomnia had been getting worse, and he'd been getting worried when he saw you were often messaging him at 4 am, sometimes as late as 8 am with no sleep. Of course he’d offer to have you over, to hold you and whisper sweet things in your ear until you succumbed to sleep, but he couldn’t always. Sometimes business was needed to be handled, and for those nights he had gotten you the best sleep medication that money could buy. You had been weary about taking them at first, but he had assured you that the side effects were basically none. He had made sure of it.

Sylus made his way to the bathroom, proceeding to rid himself of the damp clothes clinging to his skin. A quick shower and then he could finally curl up next to his little crow. Not that he would be sleeping yet, but it was nice to watch you dream. Sometimes you’d whine or make little noises, which he found absolutely adorable. He wondered what you dreamt about sometimes, but you had refused to answer much to his annoyance.

The hot water felt amazing after being gone practically all night. He washed all the blood and dirt from his skin, examining all of his various injuries. He had a run in with a few “pests” that he quickly exterminated, but they had managed to get a few nicks on him. He touched his arm where the biggest cut was, his Evol immediately snaking around it and healing it faster than he could blink. He did the same for the others, feeling brand new once more.

Some time passed before he finally turned the water off, dried himself, and slipped into a pair of boxers. He slowly made his way into the bedroom, hoping that he wasn't being too loud but you were out like a light. Sleeping like a rock.

Sylus slipped in bed next to you, sighing with pleasure as the soft mattress sunk beneath his weight. It felt heavenly. He turned to put his arm around you, trying to get as comfortable as possible so he could hold you. He softly kissed the corner of your ear, his head starting to swim with thoughts. Surprisingly, he felt comfortable enough to possibly fall asleep with you.

But he couldn't.

He had been laying in bed for thirty minutes just thinking. He thought about all the business arrangements he needed to finish. Tonight had been…messy. No doubt he had made some new enemies. How impatient he was getting about the new weaponry he had bought from Spain. They should be arriving soon, but it had been taking forever.

How he wanted to feel your tight cunt pulsing around his fingers.

Sylus stiffened, attempting to rid his head of these thoughts about you. His efforts were in vain though, as he was already rocking a semi hard on that was steadily growing into a full erection.

Obviously there was nothing he could do about it. You were sleeping after all. And not only that, it's not like he could wake you to do anything anyways. He hates quickies, they bored him. He likes to take his time. To take in your reactions, your faces, and your noises. Besides that, you were taking a pretty high dose of your sleeping meds and he kinda doubted he could wake you even if he really tried.

This thought stirred in his head for a bit.

Yeah...you wouldn't wake even if he tried. He sighed with a twinge of pleasure as he pressed his erection against the soft cotton of your underwear. The pressure felt immaculate, and if he hadn't been gone all night he probably could've finished just by pressing himself against you. You were the only girl ever that could make him finish that quickly.

But it wasn't enough. He needed more. It had been a bit since he touched you like this.

You moved a bit in your sleep, letting out a small whine. He leaned over you to get a better look at your face. Still sleeping, mouth open slightly ajar. You were so fucking pretty when you slept.

“Such a sleepy kitten” he growled lowly, snaking his fingers underneath the hem of your underwear. He didn’t know why, but the mere sight of your sleeping face was getting him worked up. You looked so docile, so vulnerable. He wanted you. Sylus began to tug them down slowly.

This was very wrong. He knew this and yet he couldn't stop. He kept going, making empty promises to himself that he would only take a peek. He just wanted to see you. All of you.

Sylus froze has he finally pulled your underwear down to your legs, practically breathless at the site of your cunt at his fingertips.

"Fuck..." he groaned, unable to stop himself from pressing a finger between your folds. He watched you carefully for any signs of discomfort or movement, but you were still fast asleep as he pushed his finger in. You were warm, inviting even. It's like your pussy was sucking his finger in, deeper and deeper. He slid a second finger in, picking up the pace. Soon enough, your cunt was slightly wet, spots of your slick forming on the backs of your legs near your pussy. Pulling out, he practically shivered with excitement.

Sylus was quick to put his fingers in his mouth, savoring every drop of you. You tasted so sweet to him, the best flavor he ever had the honor to try. He wanted nothing more than to dive head first into the source and lap it up. But his erection was so starting to bother him. It was rock hard, and throbbing ever so slightly, begging to be freed.

He had to have you. And he had to have you now.

He pulled his erection through the hole in his boxers, beginning to stroke himself with an intense grip. Groaning as quietly as he could, he stared at your wet and welcoming cunt. He swore it was just begging to be filled by every inch of his cock. Still wanting him, even when you were asleep.

"You’re so pretty sweetie" he whispered in your ear, closing his eyes as electrifying pulses of pleasure crashed through him. Sylus told himself he should stop now, but it was past that point. He knew himself better than that. His mind was already made up, no matter how much he was trying to talk himself out of it.

Turning you a bit more on your side, he readied the fat head of his tip to your entrance. You stirred once again, mumbling incoherent nothings before becoming silent again. Sylus chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the tip of your ear as he stroked himself a few more times.

As he sinks his tip into your tight entrance, his precum smears all over your hole. He shudders with intensity, trying his best to hold back a groan, worried that making too much noise next to your ear would wake you. He pushes further and further until he can't possibly sink himself into you anymore. You squirm, letting out another whine, this one a bit louder than the last.

"Im sorry kitten…" Sylus coos, laying his head behind yours as he fucks you with a slow, rhythmic pace. "Just need to cum in what’s mine. Be a good girl and stay asleep for me”.

He rests one of his hands on your hip, trying to keep from shaking you too much as he continually plunges himself inside you. You were warm, your gummy walls constantly tightening around him. He moans your name over and over like a prayer, feeling lost in your walls. The soft clap of his skin meeting your ass echoes a bit in the room.

"You're fucking made for me. Look at you sweetie, tightening around me, trying to squeeze me dry even when you're sleeping" he whispers, feeling himself getting closer and closer to bliss.

His thrusts became sloppy and he had to slow himself, trying to savor every moment he had inside of what essentially felt like heaven. He had been wanting to fill you for days. Images of his seed erupting onto the walls of your fertile pussy, eventually giving you a nice, round tummy that would grow his baby filled his head and he couldn't stop himself from finishing anymore.

As his hot ropes of sticky cum shoot against the walls of your womb, he accidently grips your hip a bit tighter than he meant to. You yelp, and he quickly rubbed his hand over the spot he'd hurt you, ensuring you remained asleep. He checks the spot and sees some slight bruising already starting to form and curses himself silently for losing control and hurting you. His Evol was quick to move over the injury where his hand lay, instantly restoring your skin back to a healed state. Sylus was amazed he could even do that. His Evol had only ever healed him. It wasn’t until you came along that it had ever revealed that kind of power and it didn’t work for anyone else either.

"Shh shh, its ok. Just be still, I'm almost done filling you up darling…”

Once his orgasmic high subsided, he took a moment to catch his breath before watching as his cum pooled out of you. He took his finger and scooped as much of it as he could gather before gently pushing it back within your folds. Feeling satisfied with his work, he pulled your panties up before finally pulling the cover back over you.

"There you go. Gotta keep my seed where it belongs so you can make us a baby. Right kitten?" he chuckled, finally feeling tired enough to cuddle you and fall asleep.

[clairdelunelove]

heart on the court

basketballplayer!itadori yuuji x reader

genre: fluff! (basketball drabble!)

warnings: slight cursing, slightly suggestive?, mentions of injury (not graphic tho!)

synopsis: yuuji's the best on the court. athletic, reliable, and great sportsmanship. unfortunately for you, though, is that he's from the rival school. but suddenly he's spotting you in the crowd and you're patching up his injury. so of course he's getting your number.

a.n. noticed I missed writing about fics surrounding school so I went back to my roots lol. I stumbled across a pic of yuuji in a basketball jersey and felt COMPELLED to write this. so enjoy :3

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literally drooling at the thought of how itadori yuuji, who's on the rival school's basketball team, manages to get your number after the game.

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animated chatter buzzed throughout mobs of students at the promise of this evening’s basketball game. it was supposed to be a friendly match— doubling as a scrimmage so the players had some practice before the strict season games. a time where coaches put in their substitutes to introduce them into the team's dynamic. try out a couple skills, run some drills, and build up morale. but you, along with everyone else, knew what this game ensued when your rival school’s name was posted on the campus’ bulletin board. it wasn’t just your school that was hypervigilant either. word quickly spread that the other school’s roster had their infamous ace on it. known to sway the game’s outcome just by his presence on the court. you had missed the last game, caught up in a club meeting and the fear of missing out tugged at you to attend this time. the game was an event that the entire student population eagerly looked forward to. banners were made, glittery pieces that had some sort of motivational quote plastered on it, confetti was cut, and balloons were blown up to decorate the school’s gymnasium. and, of course, girls’ crafted signs to cheer their boyfriends on during the match. the game was a huge, notable affair that deviated from the school's mundane schedule– and you wouldn’t miss it even if you had to scurry right after film class ended. 

basketballplayer!yuuji who audibly gasps as he steps into your school’s gymnasium. the building is enormous– clean– and students are already occupying a majority of the bleachers. he’s clad in his team’s warm-up gear; branded sports jacket and baggy sweatpants that are ideal for practicing. the male would’ve blended in well if it wasn’t for the sleek headphones around his neck and how he expresses an impressed, “woah.” hand reaching up to push down the hood over his head, he shakes off the remnants of rain that cling onto him and does his best to rub the bottom of his sodden shoes on the entrance’s mat. he expected it to rain. packed an umbrella in the red gym bag slung over his shoulder but couldn’t be bothered to take it out. his teammates weren’t so prepared, however. raising their bags over their heads to stay dry and patting themselves off from the heavy sprinkle. just a small disadvantage from not being the school’s home team. unfortunate that the weather was gloomy for such an anticipated game. though, it doesn’t dim the team’s enthusiasm and the gymnasium’s atmosphere. just encourages the crowd’s ovation when the rival team saunters into the place. “they’re all fired up,” one of yuuji’s teammates remarked with a pleased smirk. 

basketballplayer!yuuji who warms-up with heavy music blasting through his headphones and a basketball in his hand. dropped his bag off near the sidelines before rummaging for the sweatband he usually wears. it’s a plain black fabric that helps keep his unruly hair away from his face. but really, the girls’ can’t help but notice how the sweatband emphasizes his dark undercut when he pushes it through his blushy hair. attractive in a way that captivates not only his school’s following but also the home team’s admirers. compensation, as some would call it, for watching the game. yet, yuuji never views it that way. puts himself in the zone while the rest of the team idle around; they’re likely found chatting with friends or winking at the girls on the bleachers. he strides on the court, politely waves to his school’s traveling fans before habitually dribbling the ball beside him. practices a couple layups and free throws to get the blood pumping. isn’t a huge fanatic of the attention that he gains from how precise his movements are but he’s aware that’s the price of being the team’s ace. 

basketballplayer!yuuji who, from the corner of his eye, spots you scrambling into the building. you freeze immediately. eyes widening at the sheer amount of people that crowded around the doors; most were dawdling while waiting for friends in order to grab a seat together. you pressed the stack of film books closer to your chest to endure the feverish pushing that came with the thrill of the evening game. wasn’t anything worth panicking about. just a couple elbows and shoulder nudging until a figure parts the loud crowd. “need some help?” unbeknownst to you, the rival school’s ace separated the sea of students to reach you and provide some assistance. well-mannered, polite, or considerate ought to be his middle name. you blink, speechless because you’re face to face with the attractive male. even has a pretty voice to match. yuuji allows you to blatantly stare– forever the patient person he is while grinning abashedly. “‘gonna take that as a yes,” he chuckles and raises his voice so you can hear him over the noise, “follow me!” ends up walking you to the slot of empty space where his duffel bag resides. his teammates toss a sleazy whistle over their shoulder which compels yuuji to mutter, “shut up, man,” before ushering you along. he’s still in a good mood by default. while accompanying him, you’re unable to refrain yourself from gawking. he’s all sharp features that melt into boyish charm when he interacts with you. “good movie, by the way,” he points to the book in your hand. “oh!” you glance at the film’s cover before smiling, “right? I finished it over the weekend and really liked it.” upon noticing that you’re chatting with him, he promptly slides off his headphones so he can hear you clearer. it’s a seemingly insignificant gesture but it warms your heart nonetheless. having genuine courtesy to others was utterly irresistible to you. the guys at your school didn’t hold a candle to him. begs you to wonder; who was he?

basketballplayer!yuuji who waits until you’re situated before hollering out a quick, “later!” dribbles back on court to join the team’s practice drills before the match and only shoots you a grin when he notices you’re staring. doesn’t bank on gaining anything from you– he’s authentically chivalrous. you, on the other hand, are absolutely intrigued by the blushy haired male from the rival school. wide, glimmering eyes on him as he’s zeroed in on passing the ball. the crowd’s clamor is only heightened when the warning whistle shrieks to indicate that– finally– it’s game time. yuuji shuffles over to pack his headphones and sweatband. ends up slicking his spiky hair behind his ears and earns a couple squeals of delight. he sheds off his jacket and sweatpants next; so he’s clad in the team’s official dark uniform. his sleeveless jersey cuts into a deep v-neck to unveil pretty collarbones that have you squinting to admire. even his baggy shorts can’t conceal the strength of his physique. as expected, he’s all lean muscle that overshadows anyone else on the court. yuuji shoots a good-natured thumbs up to your school’s players, places his hands on his thighs, and does a couple stagnant stretches before tip off. and gosh– can he play. remarkably, he’s everywhere on the court. rebounding shots, gaining points from layups, and taking the responsibility of every free throw. it’s impressive because he’s deemed as average height for a basketball player. yet, he’s the power forward that teams fantasize about. zips up and down the court without a hint of fatigue. the audience is glued to his every move too, becoming uncontrolled whenever he has possession of the ball. whistles and cheers whenever he manages his infamous dunk. hangs off the rim with a single hand while grinning gleefully at the crowd. bright eyes blazing with the kind of adrenaline a person only experiences from being unrivaled in their expertise. you’re even reveling in the ambience. cheering wholeheartedly for him (a player that’s not from your school) but sheepishly dialing back your enthusiasm when yuuji glances in your direction. 

basketballplayer!yuuji who’s unstoppable on the court. so unstoppable, in fact, that the only time he’s subbed out is when he’s on the receiving end of an offensive foul. catches a solid body-slam while he’s turned around so he scrapes his knee as an attempt to steady himself. the audience buzzes with distress when yuuji slowly picks himself back up. a teammate claps him on the back as he limps to the sideline bench at the next opportunity. he doesn’t seem like he’s in pain, though. cheerily waves and says, “hey!” when he recognizes you in the crowd. fortunately, the seat he found for you was perfect because now he’s situated a bleacher row below you. the coach hands him a damp towel which he uses to apply pressure on his bleeding knee. pressing the rag down to control the minor injury, he whirls around to ask you, “enjoying the game?” a gleam in his stare conveys a hope of praise that you’ll offer him. “I am!” you cup your mouth with a hand so you’re audible over the crowd, “you’re great!” lifting an arm to wipe off the sweat on his forehead, he smiles broadly, “am I?” and the tone in his voice reveals genuine curiosity. he’s not attempting to coax more compliments out of you, no, yuuji’s real intent is to keep conversing with you. you’re nodding right away, head bobbing so vigorously that he ends up chuckling. “how’s your knee? that was a nasty fall.” you point to where the rag has splotches of crimson on it. “fine,” he smoothly replies with a casual shrug to ease the worry written on your face, “I’ve dealt with worse.” then, you reach into your backpack to hand him a bandaid while sheepishly avoiding his gaze, “I have this if you want to use it.” the patch is a soft-hued color and has an animated character cheering on it. yuuji decides it’s cute– like you. his cheeks are set aflame as his slender fingers work to press it over his scraped knee. pats it for good measure to demonstrate that it’s better. you made it better. “thanks!” ill-timed, his coach advises him that he’ll be back on the court soon so he extends his legs to stretch the muscles. he’s guided to the substitution area but before he hops back on the court, he turns to call out to you, “will I see you after the game?”

basketballplayer!yuuji who’s reduced to clumsy pauses and splutters when he finds you waiting for him after his game. it was a formidable match but his flawless performance just gave his team the upper-hand. the crowd was satisfied, though. buzzing with compliments for yuuji and his athleticism– the usual revelation that causes his supporters to steadily grow. slinging a towel over his shoulder, he grabs his duffel bag, takes out his umbrella, and tosses in a couple praising remarks to his teammates before ambling over to the gymnasium’s exit. he’s in a grand mood; the crowd was wild, his teammates/coach were pleased with him, and the endorphins consuming him after the spectacular game were pumping through him. yet, the rival school’s star player literally stumbles on his feet when he finds you patiently waiting for him. you’re all soft, delicate features that are only enhanced in the building’s fluorescence. a beauty that he’d be damned to remember if he saw you passing through his school’s hallways. although, his favorite part of you was the sparkling smile on your glossy lips when you caught a glimpse of him. blindly, he makes his way over to you. and boy is he a stuttering mess. red-faced and sweaty, yuuji manages to get your name and immediately mentions that it matches you. “it’s pretty,” he clarifies when you tilt your head in skepticism. overall, the two of you are interrupted multiple times (with students asking for pictures or chatting post-game with him) and he’s hastily apologizing for the inconvenience each time. dark brows shooting up, he’s the epitome of panic as his gaze darts to the line of people waiting for his regard. “sorry!” yuuji sheepishly bows his head while explaining, “it’s usually not, uh, like this after games–” and his hand reaches out to guide you to a spot that’s less crowded but you’re giggling at how ruffled he is about the whole ordeal. “they seem to like you a lot,” you bring up as his hand gently closes over your wrist after leading you to a place outside of the building. it's sprinkling, droplets catching on your lashes and he hastily opens his umbrella for you. slowly, you’re drawn closer to him and the warmth he exudes. your fingertips move to graze over his calloused knuckles, a spellbound guise in your gaze. he chokes on his breath. “how about you?” he inquires, unexpectedly meek and tender now that the two of you are alone, “I mean, how do you feel about me?” and it’s safe to say that when you slip your number into his hand, the adoration is mutual. 

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I have never seen anything like this house. Notice that there are no windows. That is b/c the entire home is covered in bullet-proof Lexan. And, that's not all- every surface inside is also Lexan- the walls, furniture, you name it. Everything is bulletproof. Built in 1953 in Maumee, OH, it has 3bds, 2ba, asking $399,900. It looks brand new inside, I don't think it's ever really been lived in. You have to see this.

It's a nice piece of property- 5.08 acres of it, surrounded by $100K worth of fencing and it also has $300K of concrete, so it's a bargain already.

Here's an idea of the layout. Our tour will begin with the entrance - by the red carpet.

I don't know what this is. Maybe it's a rear entrance.

Here we are in the entrance hall. The red carpet is out to welcome guests to your bulletproof lair. Geez, it's awfully bright in here. They chose the lightest Lexan color- notice how shiny the walls are? Lexan.

Even with the model, I still can't find my way around. I don't see a living room, but this is the first room, with a wall of bulletproof closets and matching desk. There's an exercycle in here for some reason.

I don't know, is it a desk? Looks like they have rubber mats protecting the floors. Now, why would you put wood doors in a bulletproof house?

This is your combination kitchen/exercise room.

Nice, shiny Lexan cabinetry. The fridge looks like a 50s model.

Weird little door there. They've got wood beams on the ceiling for a rustic touch.

This is exercise equipment, right? Weird place for a clock.

Bench w/a neon light. This house has some strange features.

Very large pantry.

Bulletproof shower door. Why is it open at the top? Stop playin.'

Laundry room has a little desk in the corner.

Clearly, those machines aren't bulletproof.

Here's your bedroom with the bulletproof bed, nightstands and storage. But, you can still easily be shot. That mattress is so high, you'd be an easy target.

Who cares about the walls, when the bed makes you a sitting duck? This house is dumb.

Anyway, here's your bulletproof closet/dressing room. I hate when my lingerie has bullet holes.

Now on the toilet, you're only partially hidden. Come on, man.

I don't know, a primary bedroom?

I thought that the real estate description had a lot of nerve saying that it could be demolished and the buyer could rebuild. Now, I'm beginning to think that might be a good idea.

The property has a nice water feature.

Over 5 acres is a lot of land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1360-Old-Trail-Rd-Maumee-OH-43537/34722959_zpid/

[unholyhelbig]

Part three of loan shark natty

Title: The Oversight [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 3465

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, guns, blood, death, sort of dark nat if you squint, horrible grammar

[A/n: If you guys haven't picked up on it yet, this will be slow-burn. Also, thank you so much for the positive response to this story, it means so much!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

It had been two weeks since the incident that you had deemed ‘the business proposal’, though, if you were being honest, you knew exactly what it was. The bruising against the side of your face, fading from a deep dark purple to an ugly muddy brown reminded you of the encounter. The faster you healed, the more your nerves started to prickle dangerously.

Each time the brass bell above the diner’s door would ring, your eyes would flick to the entrance. With bated breath, you’d study the tired businessman, the English major running on nothing but burnt coffee, or the single mother just looking for some reprieve. Much like yourself.

Clint Barton was the last person you expected and wanted to see. He was certainly the last person you wanted to see, despite the sheepish smile on his face. There was shame etched into his features and a strange softness to his eyes that starkly contrasted the man who had nearly broken your jaw.

His hair was sprinkled with droplets of water, a sweatshirt dotted from the persistent drizzle that seemed to plague the city. He dutifully wiped his feet on the mat and made his way over to you. Instead of his usual booth, Clint sat on the last stool and scratched the stubble on his chin.

He glanced at the menu as if he were going to order something different than his usual. Maybe he wouldn’t order anything at all. But, you had a feeling you weren’t going to escape the conversation at the tip of his tongue, nor the obscenities at the tip of yours.

You poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him without being asked. Clint could swallow down a whole pot of extra caffeinated without a second thought. For now, you urged him to pace himself silently.

“You got a couple of minutes?” He asked behind the rim of his cup.

The diner was mostly empty. It was the middle of the workday and had been a slow four hours thus far. There was only so many times you could wiped down the same table and replace the salt in the shakers.

The cook made eye contact with you as he poured alcohol from his flask into off-brand orange soda. You got a short shrug in response. Otherwise, the place was empty. Clint had timed his arrival perfectly.

“Sure. You’re not going to beat the shit out of me again, are you? Those cameras aren’t hooked up, but this is still a public place.”

“Look, I wanted to apologize for that. Bad information breeds bad reactions. I was doing what I was told. You’ll learn that that’s the only way to get anywhere in this practice.”

He stated it plainly as if you weren’t silently inducted into a criminal ring. You weren’t exactly sure what they did but if it was half as bad as what they’d done to you, it was trouble. Clint could sense your unease. He placed his mug down and lifted a bandaged eyebrow.

“Hold your grudge, y/n. I sure would. Natasha simply told me to collect you after your shift. So, you can sit here and glower at me like a grumpy little monster or you can make conversation and we can become friends.”

You hated how good the second suggestion sounded. He was charming in an annoying type of way. You’d never clicked with anyone in the diner before, certainly not the only other employee that stood behind the grill.

Clint was staring at you like he knew you’d already folded. He covered his smirk with another sip of coffee. You wanted to wipe the cocky grin off his face. He had effectively taken a shot at you, that much was true, but you had crumbled just as easily under Natasha’s wishes.

“Friends is a stretch.” You sounded out.

“Acquaintances, then.”

You conceded with a small nod and Clint smiled in a way that could only be genuine. He swallowed off the rest of his coffee and made small talk with you as you hustled around the restaurant. There was a small rush after classes at the community college let out. But you were able to carry on a conversation, learning a little more about him.

He’d been friends with Natasha for a long time. That much was clear by the way his eyes crinkled along the edges when he’d recall memories that stretched past their current affairs and into childhood.  

“We met when we were twelve. I’d just moved to town and was this scrawny, awkward mess of puberty and acne. An easy target is what I’m saying. A lot of neighborhood boys would target me, but I was faster than them. It usually worked in my favor, but there was one day when it had just snowed and it was impossible for me to get any headway.”

Clint regaled you as you filled up his mug for the third time. You lingered behind the counter, chin on your hand as you listened intently.  

“Six of them cornered me at a construction site. I didn’t even know how to begin to fight back. I was beaten close to death and then I heard Nat. She ran head-first into danger, tried to take on every single one of them. Of course, she got the shit kicked out of her too, she was just a kid there was no way for her to win. But that didn’t’ matter because she got back up every single time. Eventually they got cold, or bored, probably both.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were impressed. “Shit, that’s quite the meeting.”

“She’s tough, y/n. Not someone you want to fuck with.”

“So, this is a warning, then?” You smiled.

He shrugged his shoulders “A cautionary tale.”

He drove a 1970 Dodge challenger that smelled like cherry leather polish. It was the nicest car you had ever seen, that is, until he pulled up the iron-gated mansion on the outskirts of the city. There was a brilliant view of the harbor, the water a deep and dark blue that seemed endless, an orange sun casting delicious shadows against the docks.

The house was brick, built in a southern style with a large wrap around porch and a stone fountain in the center of a circular gravel drive. It was three stories of decadence, surrounded by large oak trees and the deepest green grass. This was the home of a Politian, or of someone who had one under their thumb.

Three black SUVs were parked in tandem outside. An equally pitch Corvette Stingray was parked directly in front of the steps. You struggled to muffle the thoughts of Natasha in the front seat. The vehicle suited her, and while you most certainly were not a car person, you knew the value of a ride like that.

Clint squirmed with pride, that same smile on his face. It was one that often accompanied him, you’d learn. He took the steps two at a time and waited to open the doors until you’d caught up. He removed his jacket and draped it over the coat rack just by entryway. You, however, were preoccupied by the elegance of the home.

The floor was a checkered black and white, stretching all the way down a corridor to open storm doors, letting in a crisp spring warmth. Light danced against art that cost more than your entire apartment building. White stairs clung to the wall and curved to the second floor. To your left, a dining room. To your right, a living area that had the softest white carpet, and a cream grand piano that your fingers twitched to run over.

There was a sour scent of bleach that reached your nose, and it was only then, did you realize the blood. It was distilled, a quiet pink color, that had been diluted by diligent scrubbing. The girl, the one that was often at Clint’s side herself, was on her knees a few feet away.

She held a scrub brush that looked like the ones used to clean the grout at the diner. Her forehead was damp with sweat, a few stray strands of dark hair falling into stormy gray eyes. The front of her shirt was stained in the majority of the blood. You failed to see how she would have much to clean from the floor. Yet, the bucket of water next to her was a frothy mess of red.

“An hour,” Clint tsked, shaking his head “I left you alone for an hour. I specifically said that I was coming back with a guest, and it was imperative not to freak her out.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

You were absolutely freaked out. But you were quick to realize whose home you were in. The scrubbing of a crime scene was startling, and you wanted to turn tail and run. However, you had seen worse before and your life had been spared once. You weren’t going to get squeamish now.

“You sound freaked out.” Clint turned his attention back to the girl “And its bad manners. If I were the police?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten through the gate.” She stood, dropping the brush into the bucket with a defiant splash. She was taller than you thought, the deep red of her collar harsh against her skin. There was a smile on her lips, and she reached out a hand to you. “I’m Kate.”

“This is y/n and she’s not going to shake that.” Clint batted Kate’s hand away “Who was this?”

Kate rolled her eyes. It was an action that you yourself would never do. Clint may be a bit aloof, but you had seen him in action. Namely when he was three seconds from snapping the bones in your face. She had no fear of him, though. There was a cockiness, a charming attention, to her stance. He didn’t’ seem to mind, or he had gotten so used to her attitude that seeped into him instead.

“I don’t know. Yelena brought them in. If you’re so concerned about the mess, maybe you should take it up with her.” There was a grin that mirrored Clints. She knew she’d won. “I can go get her if you want.”

“No need. Where’s Nat?”

“Out back by the pool. It’s a lovely day.” She leaned close to you, smelling of cleaner, of tin and of the slightest bit of chewed mint. “It’s great to meet you, y/n.”

You were careful not to lose your footing on the slick floors. Clint nudged the bucket with his toe as he walked by, sloshing about the soiled water. Kate cut him a look that only you saw, but it was one that was almost playful. She shook her head and went back to her task.

There were two things you had picked up from the conversation; Clint was afraid of Yelena, and there was somewhere soundproof in this house that she had taken someone that had lost a lot of blood. You shoved both thoughts to the back of your mind when you exited onto the back porch.

Natasha was stretched out like a cat in the sun. She wore a black bikini that left very little to the imagination. You could feel the blush against your cheeks as you averted your eyes to anywhere else, though, you swore she arched her back from the chair at the sound of your footsteps.

Her hair, still slightly damp, was cascading down her shoulders. She wore a pair of sunglasses, a book that was marked halfway through rested on the table next to her. She had clearly given up on reading, instead fully devoting herself to the sun.

Clint didn’t acknowledge her current state, nor did he have an adverse reaction to it. Your mouth was dry, and you shoved your hands into your jeans to keep them from trembling. It was a mix of fear and attraction that caught you off guard on a mostly empty stomach.

She moved her glasses down the expanse of her nose as you approached. Her stare was a startling green, raking across your form. She quirked an eyebrow. The specter of a smile on her face. Clint had noticed something you didn’t, his body language changing into something unreadable.

“y/n,” Natasha purred your name. You fought back a shiver. “You’ve healed nicely.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ma’am? What manners you have. That’s severely lacking around here.”

Clint rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. You did the same, partly out of fear. But mostly, you were distracted by the scars against her stomach, on her arms and down her back. It wasn’t something you had noticed at first, nor did you permit yourself to stare. Whatever had been done to you when they’d first taken you was nothing compared to what Natasha had been through. Her body told a story, one that you longed to learn.

“Hey sharpshooter,” She turned her attention to Clint “I think Yelena might need your help downstairs. Y/n. Stay.”

It was a clear dismissal, and one that he didn’t’ take lightly. He patted you on the shoulder before entering the house once more. You listened to his footfalls for a few moments, holding your breath until you started to feel your vision falter.

You’d been alone with Natasha before. But this felt different. Heavier. The questions that you’d had these last two weeks were meant to be answered. She gestured for you to sit on the opposite chair, which you did carefully, body tightened to make yourself as small as possible. She removed her glasses entirely, a strand of russet hair falling into her gaze.

“You’re going to quit your job at the diner.” She said.

“I can’t do that,” Your response was automatic.

Natasha sat up, placing her bare feet adjacent to yours. Her knees were pressed against your own. She easily could have pushed your own open and she stared at you as if she contemplated the fact herself. Instead, she lilted her head and peered at you.

“What I mean, ma’am, is that’s my livelihood.”

“Oh, I understand. I wasn’t perfectly clear. You work for me, now. You’re on my payroll. I’m sure it’ll be quite an upgrade.” She leaned closer. “Do you know what I do, y/n?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. There was an inkling. But it was just speculation. Someone with a home like this had a good handle on business. Natasha certainly conveyed fear, and commanded respect. So did the people who worked for her, willing to take a bullet in moment’s notice.

You weren’t there yet, but you were sure with a little persuasion, you would be. Part of you had felt slighted. They’d pulled you from your life, from your daughter, and threw you into this without any type of explanation.

“The harbor behind you is a center of trade. Whoever controls the harbor controls the city, and for generations my family has had a monopoly when it comes to what comes in and out. There is not a single freight that can dock here without getting past me. Recently, that’s been threatened.”

She sighed and worked a hand through her hair. Her stare flicked past your shoulder, focused on the expanse of water that had been a staple in your life. You’d walk along the docks, chat with the vendors on the way to work. It seemed like a friendly place.

“There are two prominent families in this city, Y/n. The Romanov’s and Danver’s. For the past three years they’ve been pushing back against the real leadership, getting creative. Looking for change. But we simply can’t allow that to happen. Things work as they are.”

You had a feeling that this was the core of her beliefs. Things how they were weren’t so bad. Each person had their own struggles but when it came to integral crime on the streets, in the boroughs, you hadn’t noticed anything and that was the way you liked it. Ignorant, maybe. But it was none of your concern. Not until now.

“A lot of people work for me, but my numbers are dwindling. It’s hard to find good help anymore. You know how it is.”

You didn’t.

“There’s something… in you that I admire. A perseverance to live and protect and you’re going to do exactly that for me.” Natasha stated this plainly. “The Winter Soldier will be predisposed. Not permanently. But I would like you to replace him.” 

There must have been disbelief written across your features because Natasha laughed, actually laughed, as your jaw fell open. It was a lovely sound; you must admit. Bucky was well known in the neighborhood. Even without being knee deep in mafia sludge, you had heard of him. You feared him. And the thought of stirring the same reaction seemed unattainable.

“I… what about Clint?” You asked dumbly. He seemed like the natural choice.

“He’s got his hands full with an heiress who, I’m sure you can tell, is a bit aloof. But extremely valuable. Much like yourself.” She quirked an eyebrow “if it’s experience, you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ll train you myself.”

She stood and tapped your leg with her fingers, arousal shooting straight to your core at the slight contact. Your body almost refused to move, but you were quick to snap out of it when she smiled wolfishly down at you. “Now, have you ever killed anyone?”

Your voice was pinched. “No.”

“We’ll have to change that, darling.” She started to saunter away, grabbing her silk cover-up from the back of a nearby chair. She slid it over her shoulders, and it hugged her form with just enough ferocity as the bathing suit. “Come, dear. I have just the person in mind.”

The basement was significantly cooler than the rest of the house, bathed by the sun. As you descended the stone steps, you fought the urge to smooth your fingers over your skin to quell the frigid air.

Natasha seemed unbothered. She led you into a large room that you assumed was soundproof. It was a fairly empty room, lit with artificial bulbs that reminded you much of the warehouse they’d kept you in for the weekend. This seemed more malicious though. Not something to extract information exactly. A form of punishment.

A man was strung up from a low hanging rafter, his feet barely touching the ground. Rope was tied around his wrists, his hands above his head. Blood dripped like syrup from his lips, from a wound against his side. His left knee looked unnatural and broken.

You fought back a groan at the sight, at the smell of him. One eye was swollen shut, his fingers curling when he noticed Natasha’s presence.

Clint’s back was to you, his fingers dancing over an array of tools. He hummed a Metallica song, stopping at a pair of pliers. Yelena had her arms crossed over her chest, walking a slow, predatory circle around the man.

“No,” Yelena took the pliers from Clint “He will need his teeth to talk.”

Your throat tightened. This was the same woman who had sat next to your daughter in the diner. The one who had complimented her art and your job at raising her. She was easy to have conversations with, charming in the purest sense.

She turned towards both of you. “Natasha, you shouldn’t wear open toed shoes here. It is unsanitary.”

The woman next to you was not admonished in the slightest. Not by the cold or the harsh words of Yelena. Instead, she studied the man in front of you. He was in rough shape. If he hadn’t talked yet, he wasn’t going to. That much was clear.

This felt like the first time you served without following around an older, more experienced waitress. Your fingers were trembling and there was a wild nervousness that was in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, you learned, and it was second nature. You wondered if that’s what Natasha wanted. For you to learn not to cringe away from things like this. Just like the Winter Soldier.

As if to prove your thought process, Natasha said “Which one of you has your gun?”

They both pulled them out of various places at the same time, without hesitation, to the question. It made sense that Natasha didn’t have a weapon on her, not with the outfit that she walked around in. The cover-up was too tight against her skin, too revealing.

Yelena was closer, so Natasha grabbed the weapon from her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

“I have.”

Your second foster father was a deputy sheriff in Minnesota. On half-frozen nights, he’d return home from the local bar reeking of sour alcohol and sweat. The door to your bedroom would creak open and he’d drag you from bed, barefoot and in your pajamas.

Most of the time, he had cans set up on an old picnic table that had rotted through. At first, it was your job to set the cans back up and fight off hypothermia. But after three or four sleepless nights, he taught you how to shoot. His body was warm against your back and the first time the gun kicked you had nearly broken your nose.

You considered yourself a good shot when it came to cans, wild turkeys, and even the occasional buck. This was different. This was a human being that was taking in heaving breathes and fighting to pull himself up to give his bad knee a break.

“Do you know how to aim?” Natasha asked.

“It’s been years.”

“Okay,” She breathed.

You flinched when she moved behind you. Her warmth was all encapsulating. She smelled of sunscreen, and vaguely of the salt of the ocean. Natasha’s fingers pressed against your hip, giving you a small squeeze, signaling for you to take a step back.

Her other hand dropped the pistol into yours, heavy and warm. Her hand trailed up your arms, giving you goosebumps, fingers tightening around your own until you held the gun towards the man. The stranger.

Natasha’s chin was on your shoulder, her breathe hot against your cheek. Her voice came out in a whisper. “Right there. When you’re ready.”

She’d aimed the tip of the gun directly between his eyes. You could hear your heartbeat in both ears, vibrating through your body. It wasn’t hesitation, exactly. In this moment, it was his life or yours. Clint and Yelena watched you carefully, with intent.

You took a deep, shaking, breath and clenched your eyes before pulling the trigger. You expected some sort of blow-back. The same throbbing pain that you recalled from shooting at the cans. The scent of gunpowder mixing with cold.

None of those came.

Instead, there was a small click. The safety was on, and though you had squeezed the trigger with the intention to kill, it simply did not fire. You inadvertently slumped back into Natasha and the hand on your hip snaked around your middle, holding you close.

“You won’t have to kill often,” Natasha explained “But it’s good to know you’d do it without question if I tell you to.”

“Oh, Natasha, do not play with her. It is not nice.”

Smoothly, Natasha worked the gun from your hand and switched the safety off before you could blink. She fired two shots in succession, not releasing her hold on you. Your ear was ringing and the man in front of you slumped in his bindings.

“Okay. Very effective. You owe me bullets.” Yelena took her weapon back. “You are cleaning this up.”

“That means I’m cleaning this up.” Clint said.

Natasha hummed in agreement, finally pulling herself away from you. “I think this a job for two, don’t you, y/n?”

There wasn’t room to disagree with her. Not when you could only hear out of one ear, your skin still buzzing from her lingering touch. You could have sworn you felt her own heartbeat against your shoulder blade.

 But you’d never bring that up.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos]

[vulpisnocturna]

could you write prompt 19 for madara, i read what you posted and i got blushing 🤒🤒🤒😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳, your writing is amazing 🤩🤩🤩🤩

Thank you so much! <3

Link to NSFW prompt list

19) Character finds out that Reader is a virgin and finds Reader's overwhelm to be a huge turn-on as they have sex for the first time

NSFW - Minors do not interact

Warnings: virgin reader, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, corruption kink, praise kink, dirty talk, yandere-ish Madara, overstimulation

You were lost in his touch as your hands buried themselves in his long black hair, his tongue in your mouth, exploring and claiming, his hands everywhere on your body, branding you like his touch could light you on fire. You were underneath him on his bed, his mouth kissing on your jaw, his thigh between your legs offering you friction as you rutted against it, feeling high on pleasure. You weren’t really sure what to do, but it was instinct that guided you as you whimpered and rubbed your clit against his thigh. You were getting wetter and wetter, and Madara was not showing signs of speeding any of it up. You’d liked him for months from afar, and although you knew he was probably going to fuck you and then move on, you couldn’t help but want him to be your first. Though you weren’t sure you would get anyone like him again.

‘Let’s get this slutty little dress off you, shall we?’ he murmured against your ear, his hand sneaking under it to cup your ass and his mouth sucking on your neck. You moaned, trying to get his shirt off of him. He lifted himself up and took it off, revealing a toned body with muscular arms and slim hips. He towered over you both in height and muscles, almost looked like a god with his long black hair and toned, battle-weary body. He slipped your dress over your head, tossing it away and looking back at you. You squirmed under his gaze, primal fear and arousal gripping the pit of your stomach as his eyes turned glowing red.

‘You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?’ he crooned, running his hands on your skin. You lifted your fingers to his face, mesmerised as you stared into those crimson eyes that seemed to hypnotise you, as you delicately felt the skin underneath them. He looked at you, stopping for a moment, seemingly filled with wonder and confusion at what you were doing.

Madara could tell you were not as experienced as he was. Or perhaps you were just a little nervous. But you were so sweet and pretty, delicate. One touch from him rougher than he meant, and it seemed as though you would break. And when he felt his sharingan activate, it was because of how beautiful you were, and how much he wanted you. He did not expect you to react so sweetly and innocently to it, as though you were entranced. As though he had put you in a genjutsu. Your small fingers were skimming over the skin of his cheekbones, tracing his temples, his eyelids.

‘You’re- so beautiful…’ you whispered, almost a confession to yourself. Madara blinked, feeling his chest tighten slightly at your words. You looked so… pure. So different from him, as if a touch from him could sully you.

‘How sweet you are, darling. I look forward to seeing if your screams sound just as sweet’ he said, playing off the odd feeling in his chest and turning it into hunger again. And oh, you were so responsive for him. Your eyes widened slightly, a pretty blush spreading across your cheeks as he cupped your breasts and kneaded them in his hands, smugness filling him as he felt your nipples stiffen against the fabric.

He lifted your back and unhooked your bra, flinging it out of the way and looking upon one of the features that he had been using to quieten his fantasies of you. How pretty they were, how sweet and lovely your little mewls sounded when he pinched your nipples and rolled them between his fingers, when his tongue flicked them and sucked them. You were squirming like a little brat, and Madara wanted to be rougher, wanted to fuck you into the mattress, wanted to ruin you. But he also wanted to savour you.

‘Have you any idea how haunting the thought of your pretty lips around my cock is? I think I should fuck your pretty mouth and see what a slut you become when you gag around it. Not so innocent then, mh?’ he crooned, a pang of jealousy at the though of your lips around other men’s cocks warming his gut. But you stopped breathing for a second, squirming again.

‘I- don’t know how to do it’ you whispered, your face red. Madara’s brow furrowed. You’d never sucked anyone else before? That was indeed good news. He didn’t want anyone else to know what it would feel like. But it was certainly odd.

‘Next time then, perhaps. Maybe I should just fuck this little cunt of yours right now’ he said, hoping to make you forget your embarrassment. But you blushed even more.

‘Madara- I… I‘ve never had sex before’ you murmured, biting your pretty bottom lip. Madara was in disbelief. No one had fucked you before? You were still a virgin?

‘What have you done?’ he asked, his voice getting a little softer. He didn’t want to scare you off.

‘I’ve- made out with people. A few times’ you admitted. The words clanged through this brain. You’d never been touched before. You were completely and utterly innocent. And he was the first. The first to see you like this. The first to touch you.

A groan rose from him, his cock twitching painfully in his trousers. Gods, that felt so fucking good. Naive, untouched, innocent. Just for him to ruin you, claim you, have you all to himself. His cock was straining against the fabric of his trousers, harder than he’d ever been. It was the best sensation ever.

‘I will show you. You don’t have to do anything’ he said, going back to taking good care of your pretty tits, leaving marks on them so you would remember him, so that your body showed the signs of his ownership. Because after tonight, you would be his. Oh, you didn’t know, but he would fuck you so well you would never look at another man. Never entertain the thought of letting them have what you were gifting him.

First, though, he had to make sure your little virgin cunt was ready to take his cock. You would be so tight, he could only imagine the pleasure he would feel at your cunt clamping around him.

So he lowered his head, massaging your thighs, his hand going to cup your dripping sex through your simple cotton underwear, his fingers deftly stroking you as he eyed you, his sharingan recording every little twitch and gasp and mewl that escaped you.

‘You are so wet for me already, kitten’ he practically purred, pulling your underwear down and licking the hollow of your hips.

‘Please…’ you moaned, and he smirked. Pleas were so easy on your tongue. You just didn’t know. You were so pliable and obedient for him, he might just grow used to hearing you beg so easily.

He dragged his tongue on your cunt, flicking your clit and moaning at your taste. You were so fucking sweet. The jolt you gave made him groan, and he sucked on your little clit, his fingers slowly pushing inside you. You were so fucking tight, he was struggling to get two fingers in. He slowed down, concentrating on your clit, making you even wetter, relaxing you, coaxing you with little circles around your clit and his tongue pushing along with his fingers until he got to the second knuckle and curled them. You moaned loudly, shamelessly, your hips jerking, your fingers tightening on his hair until he groaned, gripping your ass with his free hand and putting one of your thighs on his shoulder.

He blew cold air on your reddened clit, smirking as you moaned and thrashed, mouth open in a gasp, eyes scrunched up.

He scissored his fingers, stretching you out, grazing your clit with his teeth until you shuddered and tensed up, your clit throbbing with your first orgasm as you cried out his name. And oh did it sound like music to his ears.

He started pumping his fingers inside you, wanting you to cum again before he fucked you, wanting to feel your walls tighten even more around him. And you did. Oh, you were so responsive. He could just do anything to you.

He sucked his fingers clean, removing his clothes and looking at you, caressing your body as he lined himself between your legs.

‘Shh… it will hurt at first. But I will make you feel so good after that. You just have to bear it for a little while, and I will be gentle as you get used to it’ he reassured you, watching, entranced, as your cunt sucked the tip of his cock in, eager to have more. As he pushed the head in, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, a low moan pouring out of his lips.

‘So fucking tight. Your little cunt is just so fucking perfect’ he moaned, shushing you with a kiss as he pushed in a little more. It was almost painful for him as well, and he knew you would need some time to adjust, so he restrained himself from slamming inside you and fucking you with reckless abandon. There would be time for that. But for now, he had to be gentle. Had to make you want so much more.

‘Ahh- so big… Madara…’ you whined, your nails cutting into the skin of his shoulder blades, doing nothing but making him even more aroused.

‘Perfect little girl. Can you take a little more?’ he asked after a few seconds, and you nodded, hissing in pain as he pushed through the barrier he felt, feeling it release and break. Ahh. You were truly his now. He kissed and sucked on your neck to take your mind off the pain, and when you started grinding on him, he bottomed out and pushed back in, making you moan loudly. He started slowly, making you wish for more, making you gasp and whimper every time he rubbed against your g-spot, all the while talking to you, telling you how tight and wet you were, how well you took his cock.

‘Good girl. I’m going to ruin you. Going to make you a slut for my cock. You’ll take it rough in no time, you’ll see. I know you’ll love it. You’re such a sweet little thing’ he crooned, pushing your legs higher on his waist and starting to get a little rougher, a little deeper. You did not disappoint as you came around him, milking his cock and making him see stars with how tight you were. Madara chased his own high, toying with your clit and making you convulse from the many orgasms you’d already had before he allowed himself to ease the restraint he had on his own.

‘Are you going to cum again for me, little one?’

‘No more- please… it’s too much… I feel it everywhere’ you cried, and Madara laughed darkly, your overstimulation pleasing him to no end as he pressed on your lower stomach, almost feeling the outline of his cock going in and out of your cunt.

‘You feel me right here, kitten? Is it good? Are you going to be a good girl and cum again?’ he asked, pressing on it, making you moan and arch your back, tears spilling from your eyes.

‘Yeah- so good… gonna cum- please…’ you whined, and Madara decided to play nice that one time as he pounded against the spot that made you clamp around him and pulse with your orgasm that left you screaming. He was almost there, almost too much…

He pulled out as soon as his balls started to tighten, spilling his cum on your lovely tits, marking you as his own once again.

Soon enough, he thought, he would claim your cunt by coming inside you too.

[sydsaint]

My silly commentary man <3

Summary: Pat is present on the commentary team when his gf challenges Rhea for her title belt.

It's eerily silent in your locker room as you break open your brand new gear from it's plastic cover. This is it. It's WrestleMania. And you've got Rhea in a title match.

You get dressed in silence, allowing yourself time to compose yourself. You and Rhea are scheduled for the start of the show, which is in less than 20 minutes.

"Okay. You can do this, YN." You stare at yourself in the mirror of your vanity. "You've beaten her once. You can do it again." You assure yourself.

You spot the locker room door creak open in the mirror and swivel around just in time for your boyfriend to step inside the room.

"Wow." Pat lets out an almost shakey breath. "YN, you look...wow." He shakes his head and shuts the door behind him.

"Awe, Pat. What are you doing back here?" You ask him. "Shouldn't you and Michael be headed down to the commentary table by now?" You glance at the clock on the wall.

15 minutes until kick-off.

Pat nods and crosses the room at a stride. "Michael's out in the hall waiting for me." He explains. "But I couldn't go out there without coming to see you one last time first."

"Awe." You coo again. "You are the sweetest man in the world, I swear." You gush as Pat leans down to hug you.

"Aww, well I try." Pat chuckles. "Are you ready for this title match? Because you certainly look ready." He grins at you. "I know you were feeling nervous earlier on the ride over here. But I just wanted you to know that I believe in you, alright. And so do the fans." Pat grabs your hand gently from your lap.

You nod, trying not to let any doubts seep into your mind at the last minute. "I'm ready." You assure Pat. "I've got the worlds best hype-man in my corner. How can I lose, right?" You tease him with a laugh.

"Exactly!" Pat beams. "Go kick some ass out there, baby. I'll be rooting for you!" He leans back down again and plants a sweet but firm kiss to your cheek.

You giggle and nod, eyes fixed on your dorky ass boyfriend as he disappears back out into the hall. Silence falls over the room again and you have time to do one last check before one of the backstage hands comes to retreive you.

Down at the commentary table, Pat and Michael finish up their intro for the show just as Rhea's music hits. The champs struts out to the ring looking confident as ever with her title slung over her shoulder. Pat remains relatively quiet, looking to Michael to do most of the work for Rhea's entrance.

Pat's uncharacteristic silence switches on a dime as soon as your theme music hits. Michael laughs as Pat hops to his feet and begins cheering and hollering like an idiot.

"Pat, come on." Michael lightheartedly chastizes his partner. "Sit down so we can get to the match." He gestures for Pat to return to his seat.

In the ring you drink in the cheers from the crowd as Samantha Irvin announces yours and Rhea's names. You see a few fan signs for you in the crowd, which is a nice confidence boost. But the biggest boost to your confidence comes from the commentary table. You have to stifle a laugh and remain serious despite the fact that you spot Pat making a fool of himself at the commentary table cheering for you.

Pat Mcafee is widely known as a goof and a bit of a stooge. But he's your stooge. And you'll be damned if you don't love that dorky ass sweeetheart of a man to death.

The bell rings, and your match with Rhea starts. The ensuing battle is brutal. Rhea is so much larger and stronger than you, so you've got to work twice as hard to keep up with her.

"Come on, YN!" Pat cheers for you from the commentary table. You can barely hear him over the crowd, but you know he's there. "Don't let Mami get you down!" Mcafee shouts.

After a merciless battle, you manage to work Rhea down to the mat. Rhea hits the mat, and you rush to the corner of the ring. You make the climb up the ring post and glance over at the commentary table.

Pat jumps to his feet, wires and cables bouncing up with him. "Do it, YN! End it!" He shouts.

You turn back to the ring and hit your signature moonsault. The maneuver hits Rhea spot-on, and you waste no time grabbing her leg for the pin. The referre counts to three, and the bell rings accompanied by the roar of the crowd.

"Yes!" Pat roars and turns to Michael. " She did it! She beat mami!" He shakes Michael's shoulders vigorously. "THATS MY GIRLFRIEND!" He adds before ripping off his headset and flying toward the ring.

You are handed your belt and step out onto the apron. Pat rushes over to the apron with his arms held out so you hop down and into his arms.

"I did it!" You laugh hysterically.

"You did it!" Pat repeats you. "I told you that you could do it, sweetheart!" He hugs you tightly.

You wrap your arms around Pat's neck and beam at him. "I couldn't have done it without my best cheerleader." You kiss him.

"I love you." Pat muses and sets you back down to your feet. "Your new WWE woman's champion! My girlfriend! YN LN!" He raises your hand up in victory.

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

The sun blazed brightly over Splash Haven, the mysterious new water park that had seemingly appeared overnight on the outskirts of town. Alex, Jake, Leo, and Ryan were excited; the park had become the talk of their small town after flyers advertising its grand opening had appeared on every doorstep. The flyer promised “an experience like no other” and entry was free for the first day. No one knew who owned the park or who worked there, but that only added to its allure.

The four friends arrived at the gates and were immediately struck by how pristine everything looked. The attractions were brand new, the water sparkled under the sunlight, and the air was filled with the distant echoes of laughter and splashing. But as they scanned the grounds, they noticed something odd: there were no visible staff. No lifeguards, no ticket attendants, no one running the food stands. It was as if the park was running itself.

“Is this place even open?” Jake asked, looking around skeptically.

“I guess it’s just all self-serve?” Leo shrugged, already eyeing the massive water slides that snaked through the park. “Hey, free water park, I’m not complaining!”

Ryan grinned, throwing off his shirt. “Let’s split up and check it out. We’ll meet up at the wave pool in an hour?”

The group agreed, and they each went their separate ways, eager to explore. But as Alex walked deeper into the park, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He spotted a few other visitors, all looking as lost and amazed as he felt, but still no staff in sight. Then, slowly, he began to notice them—men working the stands, operating the rides, and wandering through the crowds. They were all muscular, burly, and hairy, with confident smiles and tank tops that barely fit their chiseled bodies.

As Alex passed a food stand, he watched a large, bearded man flipping burgers, his hairy arms flexing with each turn of the spatula. Something about the man’s eyes seemed familiar, but Alex couldn’t place why. He moved on, feeling a little more uneasy.

Further along, he passed a lifeguard, perched on a tall chair with a whistle dangling from his neck. The lifeguard’s thick mustache and bright green eyes reminded him so much of Jake, but it couldn’t be—Jake was slim and smooth-faced, nothing like this muscular, hairy man who greeted him with a friendly nod.

Alex continued through the park, noticing more of these burly employees at every turn. One managing the arcade had wild, curly hair and a chest-length beard, a carefree smile on his lips. Alex swore he recognized the smile, something he’d seen a thousand times before in Ryan’s joking expressions, but this man was far from the Ryan he knew.

It was only when Alex approached the Dreamwave Slide that he started to feel truly disoriented. The slide towered above him, twisting and glowing with an eerie blue light that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat. A sign at the top read: “One Ride Can Change Everything.” An attendant stood at the entrance, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a beard and a knowing smile. He gestured for Alex to climb the stairs.

“Trust me, this ride’s gonna be something special,” the man said, his voice deep and familiar in a way that Alex couldn’t quite grasp.

Alex hesitated but eventually made his way up, drawn by the promise of something different. He sat at the top, looking down at the glowing tunnel that awaited him. With a deep breath, he pushed off.

As Alex plunged into the slide, he was engulfed by the warm, glowing water that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. The tunnel twisted and turned, and Alex could feel a strange sensation spreading through his body. He glanced down and saw his arms thickening, his muscles expanding with every twist of the slide. His biceps bulged, veins pressing against his skin, while a fine layer of dark hair spread over his forearms and up to his shoulders.

His chest tightened and expanded, his pecs pushing out, covered in a dense mat of hair that trailed down to his sculpted abs. Each breath felt stronger, more powerful, as if he were becoming someone new. His legs lengthened, thickened, and grew hairy, his feet large and rough. The transformation moved up his spine, broadening his shoulders and thickening his neck. Every inch of him became more defined, more masculine.

Alex felt his face change last. A thick beard erupted along his jawline, his once-soft features sharpening into those of a rugged, handsome man. His hair grew longer, wild and untamed. He felt more confident, more powerful with every passing second. The tunnel around him continued to pulse with light, and Alex’s memories began to blur and shift.

His awkward teenage years faded away, replaced by new visions of himself as the owner of Splash Haven, overseeing every detail of the park’s construction and operation. He saw himself recruiting his friends, turning them into the muscular, hairy men who now ran the park alongside him. Jake, Leo, and Ryan weren’t just friends anymore—they were part of his team, men who shared his vision for the park.

As Alex emerged from the slide, splashing into the pool at the bottom, he rose from the water as someone entirely new. He was no longer Alex; he was Lex, the proud, strong owner of Splash Haven. He was a leader, a visionary, the man behind the world’s first all-gay water park and resort.

Jake was there at the wave pool, now the tall, mustachioed lifeguard who kept watch over the guests, his green eyes still sparkling with mischief. Leo was at the grill, his thick beard framing a broad smile as he served up burgers to happy visitors. Ryan lounged by the arcade, his wild hair and chest-length beard giving him a carefree, charismatic aura. They were all exactly where they belonged, transformed into the men they were always meant to be.

Lex looked around his park, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride. This was his kingdom, his creation, and his family. He had built a paradise where he and his friends could be free, proud, and happy. The park was more than just a business; it was a celebration of who they had become.

Lex glanced at his friends, now employees, and knew that their transformations weren’t just physical. They had each found their true selves, embraced their new roles, and were thriving in ways they never could have imagined. As Lex walked through Splash Haven, surrounded by laughter, splashing water, and the sun-kissed faces of happy guests, he knew he had found his perfect life, and he would never want it any other way.

[sweetflanfiction]

Second Chances

Universe: Read Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur x reader

Disclaimers and Warnings: *spoilers* My BF just finished the game and we couldn't bear Arthur moving on, so...I had to shift the plot a bit ahahaha... Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about 1899 is from google, so inacuracies will be plenty. The reader is on the older side, and identifies as a female.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

• ··········· • ············ •

You found him lying, unconscious, near the entrance of a shallow cave after chasing a runaway horse. Mac, your shepherd dog, kept barking and you thought it was the stalion that scared him, surprised to find a full grown man lying half dead on the rocks.

You got off your own horse and approached the man, rifle in hand and eyes darting back and forth, waiting for an ambush. He wasn't moving, his face wore a peaceful expression with his eyes closed. Faded bruises matted his face. The only thing telling you he was alive was his chest slowly moving.

Shushing Mac you poked the man with your boot, waiting for any movement or for him to open his eyes.

"Hey buddy?" You ask, shaking his leg with your foot. Nothing. "You need help or...?"

Taking a deep breath you shook your head and went back to your black horse, Dusk. You were about to mount up, your foot already on the stirrup, when you heard a groan and a cough.

"I...." You turned at the sound. His eyes were still closed. "...dead?"

Mac ran to the man and whined near him as you grabbed the water canteen from the saddle bag. You took three big steps to kneel next to him.

"Not yet, friend..." You poured a bit of water on his dried lips and he opened his mouth to drink some of it.

"Sick..." He coughed and you nodded. 

"You want the doc?" You asked, moving his hair out of his forehead.

"He always had a plan..." He coughed again and turned limp.

Touching his neck, you could feel the faint rhythm of a heartbeat. You were torn between leaving here and taking him with you. He seemed sick and told you as much, but you couldn't leave a living being alone in this place, not with the night falling. You rubbed your forehead under your hat and groaned. 

It wasn't easy making a makeshift stretcher, but you managed to do a decent job with the scarce resources around you. Looking at the man, he coughed softly and you grabbed your bandanna, wrapped it around your mouth and nose and walked closer to him. You started by grabbing his shoulders and dragging him to the improvised bed. He sure was heavy, taking a few minutes to get him on the stretcher and secure him. By the end you were sweating, breathing heavily, while the big man lay unconscious.

"I'm sorry mister, but I can't leave you here to die." You finally said apologetic and patted his shoulder, before mounting up and clicking your tongue making Dusk walk towards the ranch.

• ··········· • ············ •

His dreams were filled with forest creatures and voices, some familiar and some brand new. In his mind, he was already dead to the world and did not really care about much of anything. He found peace in the end. His deer friend was walking around him, closer than ever, so close he could almost touch the creature. A small bark scared the magical creature and the cowboy cursed. 

• ··········· • ············ •

"Mac!" You hissed at the black and white dog who tilted his snout at his name being called. "Come on!"

The small animal happily walked out of the guest room, following you downstairs where you could hear two voices talking amicably. You turned the corner and walked into the parlor, smiling at the two men sitting there. 

"Ah! Miss Graham. I was just telling your father that your guest seemed to have been the victim of a crime." Doc Brant smiled back at you. He was a tall and slender fellow, his thin face adorned with a curled mustache and small round glasses pinched on his nose. He was a friendly fellow, with a strange sense of humor, but no malice behind it. 

"Really?" You scrunched up your face as you sat on the arm of your father's armchair, Mac finding his spot next to you, lying at your feet.

"Seems to have been the victim of an attempted drowning." He chuckled when he saw your eyes grow wide. "I'm just joking. His lungs seem to have a bit of trouble working. I can hear slight fuzzyness in his breathing and he seems to be fighting a fever..."

"Fuzziness in the lungs....TB?" Your father said between puffs of his cigarette.

His voice echoed fear. He was always scared of it, since your mom had passed from it. He was the opposite of the doctor. Big, brawny, tough farmer, manly man. His face held his years well and his cheeks were always rosy from the sun. He sat comfortably in his arm chair, one hand stroking the large greyhound beside the chair.

The doc tilted his head, his eyebrows raising a bit on his forehead as if thinking about something. His expression changed after a while and he shook his head in a convincing manner.

"Nah. If anything he seems to be coming out of a big round of the flu." He finished the glass of water he had in his hand and placed it on the table. "He might have been food for the coyotes if you hadn't picked him up."

"Well, if there's one thing Miss Graham over here is proficient at, it is picking strays." He joked, patting your leg.

"I don't remember you complaining before. 'Sides, every stray and get seems to help us up to this point." You smiled and fetch the glass. "Is there anything we can give the man to make him comfortable?" 

"I'll get Mrs. Brant to make you some medicine today and you can pick it up tomorrow evening. Until then...just help him fight the fever with some cold water to his forehead and wrist. If it spikes too much, throw him into a tub filled with cold water. Also, he seemed dehydrated because of the fever and his previous address, so get him some water and some food that is watery."

You and your father nodded at the instructions. Your father pushed himself out of the armchair to walk the doc outside, while you headed to the kitchen, hearing Mac following behind you.

Mac was one of the many strays you brought back home. Your father always joked that you were a magnet for creatures in need. Cats, dogs, deer, horses, birds and now people seem to appear on your path when they need help. The dog at your feet limped towards you one day when you went to the general store in town. He was whining, his tail between his legs and could not, for the life of you, leave the pup there. The other dog, Luca, a big lanky hound that never left your father's side, wandered into the ranch one night, his ear half bitten off and his left eye blind.

"You reckon he's gonna survive?" You heard your father come inside the kitchen and sit at the table. 

"Hope so..." You said honestly and turned to him, leaning your back against the simple kitchen counter. "You think his people left him to die on the rocks?"

"You said he was peaceful, so maybe he wanted to die there." You made a face at his words.

"I don't get why people quit fighting to live. According to the doc he had a flu. I had the flu, it ain't nothing to write home about..."

"You're lucky. Your momma was watching you up there." He pointed to the sky. "People die from the flu, you know that. Especially if they don't get treated. And he didn't seem to have any money on him. Maybe his people had left him there for their own sake." 

"I know..." You sighed and grabbed a pot. "Chicken soup for dinner?"

You heard your father chuckle and stand.

"I'll get the eggs. Come on boys." He whistled to the dogs and both pets ran outside.

• ··········· • ············ •

The deer kept circling him, but every time he got close it ran away. He saw it lying down in a patchy grass meadow and walked determinedly towards it. The deer meant peace, a quiet death he didn't deserve, but craved. He deserved to die in a ball of fire for all the crap he had pulled, for all the shit he had endured.

Maybe that's why it ran. Because it knew he didn't deserve peace and quiet.

"I have a plan Arthur." He turned to the familiar voice, half in anger, half in fear.

• ··········· • ············ •

[briancampbell0706]

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[comatosebunny09]

Inspired by: Like It - Summer Walker & 6LACK

No Love - Summer Walker & SZA

Sex is fun and all. But what about the intimate moments sprinkled throughout the day which lead to it? Like—

A hand pressing hot at the small of your back as he sidles behind you in the kitchen while you’re prepping breakfast. 

An exchange of tender smiles and chuckles over your shoulder follows. Kyojuro can’t help how his cheeks pepper pink when you turn around, offering him a finger oozing with chocolate. He gratefully accepts. And god dammit.

It’s honestly sinful, his mouth blistering and wet, tongue serpentine. How pornographic he sounds, humming his appreciation with eyes sliding shut, suckling, nipping, rolling. Working every morsel of chocolate out of your knuckle. His hands perched on your waist, drawing you closer, thumbs working languid circles over your hipbones, delightful tingles striking your epicenter.

He releases your finger with a definitive pop. Flashes you an innocent smile that’s all teeth and curled lashes, though his eyes betray him. A golden maelstrom of emotions flittering over your skin. He maneuvers past you to make coffee before you have time to decipher them.

How about when his palms suddenly find your waist while you’re in downward dog, the prattle of the yoga instructor fading to background noise?

Your heart thunders in your ears. Sweat pools on the vinyl of your mat below, your breath leaping out in short, choppy bursts. The prominent bulge nestled between your cheeks is hard to ignore. Balmy. Solid. Twitching. Unmistakably him. He notches your pelvis to him to keep you from barreling forward, fingers splayed over your hips and thighs, though you’re sure his intentions are everything but pure.

“Sorry,” he says, voice dripping with smugness. Sexy. Dark and viscous like whiskey. “Didn’t see you there, gorgeous.”

Devilish thing. Of course Kyojuro saw you. You’re in the middle of the living room, for crying out loud. He isn’t slick while he bucks against you, evoking a gasp from your lips before letting go. You catch yourself on your elbows, peering between your splayed legs to watch him leave. And you’re bereft of his body’s warmth and the heady scent of burnt cedar he carries whilst he disappears down the hall.

Let’s talk about how he always has to touch you in some way while in the company of friends. 

Kyojuro idly toys with your braids, gaze focused on Tengen seated across from you both. A virile arm slung about your shoulders, tucking you into his side. He smooths a finger down the swell of your inflamed cheek, down the crook of your shoulder when no one is the wiser, the feeling akin to tickle bugs rolling across your skin. 

Kyojuro laughs at a joke you can’t focus on; his palms branding your skin make you dizzy. He pinches and kneads your belly fat, a silent invocation of how he wants it swollen with his baby. 

Your thighs are his favorite. Too entranced by how they crater beneath his fingers when he squeezes, mischief dancing in the corners of his irises. Hand making several expeditions up and down your quad, inching ever closer to where you desire him most. 

You bite your lip, squeezing your legs together to ward off that fluttery feeling when he leans in, huffing a ghostly and ticklish breath into your ear. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

You nod at a neck-breaking speed. Don’t bother with formalities as you both depart, a giggle on your tongue and a hand clutching your ass, ushering you towards the car.       

[telleroftime]

Teardrop ||| Moondrop + Reader

You were certain you were prepared for everything before entering the play structure, ready to do your job and fix whatever was broken. What you were not ready for, against your better judgement, was the very repetitive occurrence of your life: fainting.

———————————————

Request - Anonymous : Could I request a hurt/comfort fic with Moondrop? (Could be platonic or romantic). I keep having this idea about a staff reader going into one of the play structures to check on a broken cable or whatever but they end up fainting while still inside (I was thinking due to P.O.T.S. Syndrome). Moon would find them after hours and basically have to calm them down once they wake up and help them out.

Pairing: Moondrop & Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Platonic

Tone: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Fainting, Vague implication of claustrophobia, Description of a panic attack.

Oneshot Masterlist

A/N: I tried doing as much research into P.O.T.S. as I could before starting because everyone deserves to be represented. Please correct me if I got anything wrong so that I know for the future.

Writing this made me realise I know nothing about how electricians work. Fake it till you make it, I'm so sorry if all of this is wrong.

———————————————

The Daycare's night theme was well in the middle of playing when you finally finished distributing the warning signs and glow in the dark tape. To your dismay, it took you longer than you anticipated.

Your wheelchair kept getting stuck on the soft carpets and padded mats, proving to be an inconvenience. The weight of it kept sinking deep into the foam surfaces which meant you had to strain yourself to push forward; to unlodge it from the divots it formed. Additionally, the roll of tape had fallen from your grasp more than once, and there were times when the thin plastic film didn't want to remain tied around the poles no matter how hard you pulled.

However, in the end, you managed to tie off each entrance to the smaller play area. At two levels nonetheless, ensuring that the children got the hint and didn't crawl through. You also managed to disable the power to the maze-like structure, meaning that you were practically ready to enter through the only remaining exit.

Placing the final plastic sign on the ground, slightly askew to let you get closer, you put your wheelchair’s brakes on and sighed, adjusting the strap around your chest.

You were certain you had everything, even though you shuffled to double check. Your over-the-shoulder black bag held your duct tape and insulation tape, safe in the back corner and held in place by a stiff separator. Between them and the clear box of screws and bolts was an array of differently sized screwdrivers and cutters. Each one had a different coloured rubber end. Red and blue and green. The few smaller ones that came from a monotoned set were colour coordinated using coloured tape.

It was all a system you took care to keep clean and memorised. It was something that let you be as efficient as possible whenever you manoeuvred around the Pizzaplex.

Nevertheless, you knew that if you were missing something, the daycare specific tool kit would hold the rest. Your bits and bobs of collected accessories and screws and nails that jangled within the smaller pockets of the bag would have to be enough - and have been enough for you to ease past the worry that maybe you forgot something. It was never the case.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up to your feet, mindful of the speed you did so and let your body reestablish its equilibrium. When it did and you felt comfortable to move, you were about to bend over to grab hold of the handle of the aforementioned tool kit, Freddy’s face like a brand on the hard plastic lid. That's when you heard the characteristic jingle of the Daycare Attendant's bells paired with soft footfalls.

You turned around to face him, mindful of how quickly you did so, the body of Moon standing about a metre away from the wheelchair. He seemed nonchalant as he walked closer to you, hunched with a tired sort of swagger, mechanically moving to be right behind the wheelchair.

The red LEDs of his eyes looked directly at you as the silicon tips of his hands travelled the round metal edge of the wheelchair with a little resistance from the forced friction. All the while the small golden bells at his wrists chimed quietly: a little dingle-dangle with each movement.

You moved to speak, but Moon beat you to it.

His head twitched slightly and caused the bell at the tip of his hat to jiggle in a sort of static motion, “there’s one more cycle left before the daycare closes,” he explained, his head never angling from where you stood, “I warned Sunny to keep the children away from the play structure~”

Moon's tone was as coarse as always yet he made sure that the voicebox was quiet, creating a sort of hushed whisper. Well, as loud of a whisper as he could without accidentally waking one of the children that were currently napping in a distant corner of the Daycare.

Nodding at his words, you finally leaned down and picked up the tool kit, taking steps towards the narrow entrance of the play structure. “Thank you Moon,” you said with a soft smile, muscles tense with the weight of the hard box. Smiling up at the animatronic, your head bobbed towards where you knew the children were sleeping, “though you should worry about yourself for now. If a kid wakes up they’ll worry if you’re not there.”

It was his turn to nod, bobbing his head in a sharp motion. There wasn't much more to the conversation as both of you had a job to perform, however seeing his long fingers wiggle absentmindedly made a calm sensation bloom in your chest.

With that and a feeling of contentness, you watched him do a cheesy bow - his head spinning on its axis - before you grinned and turned to finally enter the confines of the play structure.

———

To say that the problem was daft would be an understatement. A child had apparently snagged the buckle of their clothes on a particular, protruding part of the foam that covered the metal bars of the structure's supports. It was almost as if it poked right into the material, became logged, and proceeded to be pulled down as the child hopped the small distance into the shallow ball pit below.

That in itself wouldn’t be a problem if the actual bar didn’t have hidden wires running along its length that were tugged out by the force - ones that were powering the sheltered lights and tiny cameras hidden within the play structure itself. Sure, the placement of them could be dangerous. If parents found out about them there would be quite a few angry mothers, distressed fathers, and appalled guardians. But as always, the corporation wasn't that bothered, and minimal effort in terms of things like this was their go to.

So the wires were going to remain ever that much closer to the curious hands of children.

Thankfully, however, most of the time the thickly insulated wires would be held in place by dozens of black zip ties. It was the case here too, although the job done was way too sloppy. The zip ties weren't nearly as tight as they should have been, allowing the pieces of wire to wobble within their bindings. There also weren’t that many to begin with, at least not in the part visible to you.

That alone was probably why the cables themselves hung limply downwards, two pulled out of their place by the metal pole.

Hands reaching up, you tested the give on the wires, pleased to see that there wasn’t much. Instead, there was something blocking further movement from either direction. Locked in place by zip ties and sharp turns, falls and rises, of the structure. Simply shortening the wire would do the trick here, although it wasn't the best of options.

On a professional standpoint, removing the layers of protective foam from around the structure and repositioning the cables and wires would be the correct thing to do. But, once again, the Pizzaplex adored its 'Minimal Effort' policy with its minal staff pay. So, minimal it would be.

As the music of the Nighttime Lullaby ended, and the Daycare quickly filled with the echoes of laughing and giddy children, you quickly got to work. It would be an easy fix afterall.

Pulling off the remaining foam, you bent down and grabbed the pair of wire cutters that neatly lay within the tool kit, standing back up slowly to come face to face with the wires. You grabbed hold of their length with your insulator gloves now on, and proceeded to cut the two hanging wires down the middle. From there, it didn't take you long to remove the outer plastic from each length.

One practised cut and snip after the next, you were quick to reconnect the ends of each, ensuring that the strands of metal within the insulated casings held firmly by themselves  before you dug in you over the shoulder bag. Without looking, your fingers thumbled for the insulator tape, wrapped it around each of the adjusted wires tightly, and dropped it back into its slot in the bag.

When you were done, finishing it off with way too many zip ties that would no doubt inconvenience the next person that had to fix things here, you tested how snug the wire was against the support. Perfect.

There was barely any give, and after deciding everything was as good as it was going to get, you checked the time. The last thing left to do was to place new foam to hide the circuit.

But that stopped being your priority when you felt yourself blink slowly, a sudden wave of dizziness hitting you.

You knew what was coming, and without thinking, like a second instinct engraved into your soul, you lowered yourself to the padded ground. To your right was the tiny ball pit, your hand briefly thumbling within it before you pulled yourself to the opposite side.

With how it was going, you had enough time to slip the black bag from your shoulder and lay down with an uneasy breath before you felt your consciousness unwillingly slip from you.

———

When your eyes opened again, you were slow to come to your senses.

Everything felt foggy and the lights of the room had been switched off; casting you in darkness. Other than the faint static buzzing in the background and the uncomfortable ringing in your ears, there was no noise nor any sounds of people to break you out of your disorientation. No nothing other than the deafening silence.

Your hands patted the surroundings, noting that the space was a lot smaller than you thought or remembered, and that you couldn't feel anything. No, you had gloves on. Hot on your skin and blocking out one of the only senses that you wanted to feel. Frantically, you clawed to take them off, and the heavy gloves fell to the ground with a frightened thud. The moment that they did, your clammy hands aimed for the floor.

The ground was cold to your touch as you pulled yourself to sit in the darkness, padded with a rustling material. You felt for your bag, and as your hands grew more frantic in their search for answers, something to diminish the fog clouding your mind, you hit your hand on the hard lid of a box that let out a loud jingling sound at the impact.

If the sudden sound didn't startle you then the pain most definitely did, and your hands recoiled back to your chest. This wasn't good, not in the slightest.

What were you doing beforehand? Where were you? What was going on? How long has it been? 

You weren’t thinking straight when your breathing started picking up, sharp and painful against your lungs as you scrambled about in the small space with terror lacing your actions. Water pooled in your eyes, making the faint light from past the surrounding nets - in the far distance of your vision - completely disappear. It was dark, too dark.

You couldn’t see and that scared you.

Panic was heavy in your veins, blood rushing painfully to your head as your body slouched under you. You really wanted to focus, but you couldn’t. A million 'what if's' flooded your thoughts as your hands gripped at the thin fabric of your shirt. You wanted to leave. You wanted to be home.

The distraction of your panic was enough for you to miss the chime of bells as they neared quickly. One after the other with continued steps. All you could hear was the loud and painful beating of your heart that caused your throat to tighten with sobs. You also missed the nearing of the bright red glow of a certain animatronic's eyes. Your eyes shut tightly to the point it hurt. You needed to breathe, you knew you did.

It was only when he was right next to you that you noticed him. 

Moon crouched in front of you, legs spread apart awkwardly with one hand between them to balance himself on the floor like a house cat would. If he was talking, you couldn’t hear him.

Opening your mouth to speak, you noticed you couldn’t. As you looked up at him, not a single, tangible sound escaped you which only fueled your crying that much more. One choked sob after the other. You wanted to shout for help, ask him for support - for anything other than how you were feeling right now.

Thankfully, you didn't have to explain yourself as Moondrop adjusted himself on the ground, long metal limbs folding into a cross legged position. Slowly and wordlessly, he moved his hands from up by the neck of his body, down to where the stomach would be. Up and down in an almost physical simulation of a breath.

With a hiccup from you and a tilt of his head to prompt you, you took the hint and breathlessly followed his actions. A long, though shallow, breathe in and an exhale out. One after the other as your eyes burned holes into his own.

After a while, only one of his hands moved, forcing you to continue breathing in such a way. It helped you a lot, though your chest still burned with a strong, searing pain and the terror kept leaving you in shaky sounds of fear: sobs and whimpers alike.

But your breathing did start to steady, and when Moon noticed your constant rhythm, his other hand moved to gently - almost wearily - rest on your shoulder. "Can you hear me now, Starlight?" He asked, head once again tilting to the side with a jingle of the hat's bell.

At the sight of you nodding your head, he visibly relaxed.

"That's good Starlight. You are safe now~ Just keep breathing, just keep breathing. You're going to be alrighty-right..."

You sat there with him for a little while longer until the sound of your wheezing breath was replaced with simple, tired hiccups. The fog in your mind was gone, lost somewhere at the back of your thoughts with that temporary wave of dizziness. For now you did not need to worry, all you needed to do is be calm. And you were, for the most.

"Come on, Starlight, let's get you out of here," Moondrop said with a grizzly static in his voice and stood up, body bent to fit his height in the child-sized structure. His hands carefully guided you to your feet, keeping you stable.

"How about something to drink?"

———

You were certain that at least one hour had passed since Moon left you sitting on one of those plastic kiddie chairs by a matching table. The rush of fear-driven adrenaline was gone, and you were now letting yourself daze off. You'd long since finished the water Moon had brought you, fingers running against the crayola marks and paint stains on the rough surface of the plastic.

You were thankful for Moondrop. He had brought your wheelchair towards where you sat, black bag sitting in the otherwise empty seat. Everything was in tact, placed back into it's allocated compartments as you were so quick to check. He even kindly brought you some salty snacks, ones with names you recognised and trusted.

This time, even with your dazed state, you didn't miss the soft footfalls that made his golden bells ring and turned to look at him.

“Are you feeling better?” Moon croaked out, crouching down on the opposite side of the table to the wheelchair.

With the angle he was at you doubted it would be comfortable for anyone, even the other animatronics at the Pizzaplex. Still, you had to admit that it looked more comfortable than the way you were sitting, your legs high to your chest with the low placement of the kiddie seat.

“Better than before, thank you,” you answered with a tired smile.

"That's a goodie~"

A beat of silence passed by as his head tilted with observation, the intensity of his LEDs flickering as he did so.

"I told security what happened. You can stay here for the night. They put you down as off work tomorrow too.”

You sighed, exhaustion gripping your eyes and causing the already dull ache from the previous tears to worsen into a persistent throb. You reached for the child-sized cup Moon brought for you, looking into its empty contents.

"You didn’t have to do that for me," You said, chin leaning against the palm of your hand.

"Of course I did Starlight! You're a friend of mine, and Sunny, and the Daycare. I wasn't going to just leave you."

You snorted a chuckle, "either way, thank you."

Standing to his full height, Moon offered to take you somewhere more comfortable. When you agreed with a simple nod, he picked you up with ease. Post-adrenaline exhaustion was slowly but surely washing over you, and you could barely keep your eyes open as Moon cradled your body to his, and carried you into one of the backrooms. The pillows he set you on were as soft as a cloud.

"If you need anything, just call for me," he said with an unintentional grumble of his voicebox.

He didn't explain much more than that, but he didn't have to. With the support of whatever bedding he placed you on, and the dim glow of a star-themed night light, you only managed to mumble a quiet and incoherent, "bedtime," before you were officially pulled into the waves of sleep.

Moondrop refused to move from your side for the hours of still night silence to come.

———————————————

Oneshot Masterlist

[depressedhatakekakashi]

No Romance For Me Today

@kakagaievents

Prompt: Mythology

Words: 3719

Wednesday, six o’five pm.

Gai stared at the clock that hung over the shelf full of romance books, watching as the seconds ticked by. It was only five minutes, but he found it difficult not to worry.

Every wednesday at six pm sharp the bookshops door would swing in and Hatake Kakashi would walk in looking like the most beautiful person Gai had ever seen.

It didn’t matter if the man looked like he was about to collapse from sleep deprevation, or if he had his nose buried in the last book he bought trying desperatly to finish it before he continued on to find himself a new book for the week.

No matter what, Kakashi always looked like a gift from the gods to Gai. Perhaps he didn’t believe in whatever gods had carefully crafted Kakashi into the being of utter cool perfection that he was, but that didn’t matter.

Some devine being had to have had a hand in making Kakashi the exact way he was, abd they had to have had Gai in mind while they were working. There was no other explanation for why he ticked every box in Gai’s long list of ‘datable traits’. 

Every wendsday Gai was greeted with that beautiful face and that charming attitude, and no matter how poorly his day had gone before it would always cheer him up.

Except, today Kakashi was late.

Six minutes late according to the clock, which was still ticking away unbothered the absence of that handsome, cool man that Gai always looked forward to seeing.

The one whom his heart skipped for. Who could always make him smile, no matter what he was talking about. Gai would happily listen to the other man blabber about the latest romance novel he read, or the importance of a well balanced diet for all of the dogs he claimed to have. 

“If only he’d show up,” he sighed, eyes glued on the clock as the big hand shifted forward, now pointing at the seven. “Where could he be?”

At that moment, as if the universe was listening to his complaints and decided to take pity on him, the shop door swung open and struck the little bell that hung over it. Gai’s head whipped up, wincing when a muscle in the back of his neck was tugged a little too hard. 

That was a pain he’d be feeling for the next two days, but it was worth it because he was rewarded with the sweetest sight.

Hatake Kakashi stood there at the door in all of his messy haired glory, a picture so beautiful that Gai wouldn't dare drag his eyes away even if he could. 

There was only one problem. Rather than greeting Gai with a cheerful smile that was only visible in the way his eyes curved downwards and the subtle tilt of his head, Kakashi gave him a defeated look.

A look that wove tales of a long, difficult night that no words could ever hope to explain.

“Please, don’t ask,” Kakashi sighed, putting a stop to all of the questions stirring in Gai’s mind. “I do not have the energy to explain it all.”

With that conversation shoved to the side, Kakashi focused on rubbing his shoes against the mat that greeted customers upon their entrance with the words ‘A Spouse is for Life, but a book is forever’. 

Redirecting his attention, Gai snatched the book he’d set off to the side for just this moment and proudly held it up beside his face. “I have something that will put a smile right back on your face,” he promised. “It’s brand new. I just got it in last night and the reviews are pretty impressive . Look,” turning the book around, he jabbed a finger against the back. Right under the name of Kakashi’s favourite author. “Jiraiya even reviewed it and he says it’s quite impressive.” 

Kakashi’s eyes locked onto the book, but instead of the unrestrained excitement that Gai had been hoping to see sparkling in Kakashi’s eyes, he was greeted instead with a look of utter hopelessness.

“Thank you, Gai, but I think i’ll stay away from the romance section for today.” words that Gai thought he would never hear in his lifetime were now being spoken directly towards him and the only thing he could do was stand there staring at Kakashi as though he’d grown a second head. His mind raced to think up a reason for the sudden change in Kakashi’s attitude today, sifting through all of the pausable answers and dismissing them as he went along.

Was he having a bad dream? No, a small pinch of the skin on the back of his hand ruled out that answer. 

Could Kakashi be sick? Although he looked worse for wear there was nothing that Gai could see that would indicate he had a fever that would cause him to refuse his favorite genre of books.

“Gai,” Trotting through the little store, Kakashi stopped directly in front of the till and stared at Gai with a tired expression. “I’m sorry, I’ll take the book. I just-” he reached out to claim the book from Gai’s hands, but before he could Gai moved it back. Just out of reach of those slender fingers that Gai had watched flip through the pages of countless books. 

“No no,” he insisted, placing the book back beside his till and beginning to think. “If you’re not in the mood for romance that’s fine. The book can wait until next week, or the week after that.”

Or whenever you feel well enough to return to being that romance loving dork that I fell in love with.

Banishing that thought from his mind, Gai focused instead of thinking of a different book that Kakashi might enjoy reading. Something that would get his mind off of romance, or perhaps provide him with that little bit of romance he thrived off of while not having it as the main theme. 

A book that was sure to brighten his day. 

“Ah!” An idea struck him suddenly. “I have the perfect one.” making his way around the till, he stepped out and ushed Kakashi to follow him. “They’re actually pretty special. Usually I get my stock on tuesdays.”

“Mhmm,” Kakashi nodded, following Gai through the tiny shop towards the back end where a bookshelf labeled ‘History’ sat. “That’s why I come on Wednesdays.”

“Well, I got this one in just today,” he continued, scanning the bookshelf for that brilliant navy blue cover that had caught his eyes when he first opened the book that morning. It’s supposed to be really good. The writer, Sage, apparently has a talent for weaving tales and they’ve decided to use that talent for mythology.”

It only took a second to locate the book. With beautiful cursive writing on the spine and a bolt of lighting at the bottom it was a hard book to miss.Gai had almost purchased one for himself, but he’d thought better of it. There was little time for him to read between school, work and his daily workouts. Kakashi, though. He was someone who would get through the five hundred page book with ease.

 “And what’s so special about it?” Kakashi asked, eyeing the enormous book with an uneasy expression.

“Well…” thinking it over, Gai found himself with no real explanation. There was nothing about the book that matched Kakashi’s usual reading habits, and he’d never seen the other man carry anything bigger than two hundred pages. He wasn’t sure why this book had come to mind over everything else in the little store, but it seemed perfect. As if it had somehow been made specifically for Kakashi. 

“Nevermind,” waving away his question, Kakashi held out a hand. “It’s better than suffocating myself with more stupid romance.”

Hearing those words, Gai took a step back and moved the book away from Kakashi’s grasp, just as he had done with the first book except this time it was a movement he had made without any real thought.

There was no reason for him to keep the book from Kakashi, but there was something gnawing on his mind. A question that he needed an answer to before he gave up such a precious object.

“Why?”

Kakashi stared at him with a blank expression. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Why what?’

There were a hundred ways Gai could think of to ask his question. Fifty of them would be to personal and likely end with Kakashi rolling his eyes and giving a half answer, and the other fifty were too vague. Either way, Gai was sure Kakashi would find a way to squirm his way out of answering and he’d end up giving him the book without knowing what was on his mind.

Still, Gai felt that he had to ask. Even if he didn’t get a straight answer his question could let Kakashi know that he wasn’t alone. That he didn’t need to keep his thoughts all to himself, locked away from the rest of the world.

“Why are you so adverse to romance today?” the words struck hard. Gai could tell because Kakashi immediately averted his eyes and his shoulder’s slumped in a posture that he could only describe as defeat.

Whatever had happened, it was bad. Really bad.

“I just…” biting his lower lip, Kakashi eyed the book in Gai’s hand for a moment. “I really don’t want to explain, Gai.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it at all,” he insisted. “I’ve just had a really bad week.”

Week.

Gai had expected to hear that Kakashi had experienced a bad day, and he was prepared to offer any solutions that he could to perk his friend up, but a bad week was different. That was a whole lot of terrible that Gai wasn’t sure he was equipped to help fight against.

Still, he had to try. If only because he wanted to see Kakashi smile again.

“What kind of a bad week?” he pushed, laying the book down in his hands and cracking it open so that Kakashi could see the beautiful art that decorated the inside. With the main character of the book, the god of storms, standing in the middle of a field of flowers surrounded by his eight beautiful dog’s. Each of the dog’s looked regular, one even resembling the small pug that Kakashi sometimes brought into the store with him, but there was one special trait that stood out in the picture. The lightning that seemed to surround them, extending outwards from their bodies as if it was coming from them. 

The move worked. Kakashi’s eyes immediately brightened up when he saw the art. His fingers hovered by his leg, twitching slightly. As if Kakashi was holding himself back from snatching the book right out of Gai’s hands.

After a moment of silence, Kakashi sighed. “I …went on a few dates.”

Gai tried his best not to let the hurt show in his eyes. He knew he didn’t have any sort of claim to Kakashi, but it still stung hearing that someone else had managed to gather up the courage to ask him out. Something that Gai, a man known for his outgoing personality and unbending determination, had found impossible to manage.

“A date,” he repeated, mulling over the word. “But that’s good, isn’t it? Going out on a date means that you got to go to dinner. You got to talk about your favorite book.”

There was no one in the world who could resist Kakashi’s charm when he was gushing about the latest novel he’d read. At least, Gai knew for certain that he couldn’t. Everytime Kakashi started on one of his passionate discussions about the books he read Gai found himself getting wrapped up in them. As if Kakashi was tugging him along, introducing him to each character and warning him of all of the danger that they would face on their journey’s.

He’d tried reading a few of the book’s Kakashi had told him about, but they never turned out to be as good as Kakashi said they were. That, or he simply preferred hearing them from Kakashi more.

‘Surely anyone who has the opportunity to listen to him for five minutes would fall in love with him.’ he thought. ‘I can’t be the only one’

Kakashi’s expression told a different story, though. These weren’t dates that ended with first kisses and hopes for a second, more spectacular date.

No, what Gai found himself staring at was an expression of hopelessness. A look that one would only have if they’d found themselves facing a brick wall after journeying for hours to locate a beautiful garden.

“I just…I’m not really someone who should be dating,” Kakashi whispered, speaking words that Gai knew he could never agree with. “No matter what I do I seem to disappoint everyone I go out with, and I’ve gone out a lot.”

Gai turned his eyes towards the open book in his hands. He hadn’t read the stories written across those beautiful gold edge pages, but he’d heard a few of them in the mythology class he took last year. Stories of the god of storms, awkward and often misunderstood by mortals and gods alike. 

When he’d first met Kakashi he’d found himself thinking about those stories. About how much the god of storms reminding him of his passionate, if sometimes awkward, friend. 

“Perhaps you just haven’t found the right person.” he whispered, surprised by the words that slipped past his mouth. 

“The right person?” Kakashi grumbled. “Is there even such a person? All anyone seems to want from me is some mysterious, aloof cool guy that they can prop up on a pedestal and show to other’s. They want a trophy and they’re always disappointed when they realize that i’m not that shiny trophy that they made me out to be in their mind.”

A trophy. Gai couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

A trophy was something to be kept on display, shown to everyone who passed by. An object that one could hold out to others and say ‘look what I accomplished. Can you do this?’. 

There was a whole display of trophies in Gai’s tiny apartment. Race trophies, soccer trophies, wrestling trophies. Gai was immensely proud of each one of them, but they didn’t compare to Kakashi.

Trophies didn’t gush about books while smiling as bright as the stars that decorated the night sky. They didn’t laugh when Gai challenged them to a silly competition, or blush when he offered to buy coffee the next time they visited him. 

Trophies were nice, but they were nothing compared to Hatake Kakashi. Why anyone would want a trophy when they could have something so much better was beyond him.

Shutting the book, he held it out towards Kakashi. A small offering that he could only hope helped mend some of the pain in Kakashi’s heart. 

“You’re not a trophy,” he assured him, smiling when Kakashi’s eyes widened. “You’re so much more than that, Kakashi. Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worthy of your attention or your dedication.”

For a second it looked as thought Kakashi was about to start crying. There was a tear that seemed to linger in the edge of his eye, but before it could fall Kakashi lifted a hand and gently wiped it away.

“Is there?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically weak. “And if there is, why can’t I find them? Why can’t I have the same story as Emiko-san, or Hashirama-san?” Both names came from different books, but Gai recognized them none the less. Emiko was the main character of ‘Tidal waves’, the first book that Gai had saved specifically for Kakashi’s wednesday visit and proudly presented to him as soon as he walked through the doors. Hashirama was the name of the main character from Jiraiya’s first book, and the one Kakashi always seemed to compare to every other character he met in his books. “What if-”

Knowing where the conversation was about to go, Gai stepped forward and pressed a finger intoer the centre of Kakashi’s chest. Not hard enough to force him backwards, but enough to get him out of his head and back into reality. 

“None of that,” he insisted. “That person is out there, Kakashi. They’re waiting for you, they just…they might not know how to broach the subject with you.” Kakashi laughed at that. Not the sweet joyful laugh that Gai had come to adore, but a bitter angry laugh that sent chills down his spine.

“And who would be stupid enough to want me?” he asked. “So many people have shown interest. They’ve always been the one’s to ask me out and I’ve always said yes because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? You give people a chance because they might be the one.”

“You’re getting lost in your stories again,” laying his hand out against Kakashi’s chest, he sighed. “Not everything has to be like the books. Sometimes you’re allowed to turn people down.”

Kakashi huffed. “It would be nice if my other friends thought the same way as you do,” he grumbled. “Still, at some point there should have been someone who at least liked speaking with me, right? Not everyone should look so damn offended when i open my mouth.”

“Not everyone is offended when you open your mouth.

“You know what I mean,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “You, Obito, Kurenai, Asuma, Yamato. All of you seem to be fine with me talking your ear off, but none of you want to date me so it’s different.”

Gai bit his tongue. He wanted to tell Kakashi how wrong he was. To assure him that he would happily date him, if only he had the opportunity. This was Kakashi’s moment to vent, though, and Gai was certain he’d only make things worse if he suddenly started confessing all of his pent up feelings to him. 

“I just…I don’t want to read another story where the hero gets everything they want,” he sighed, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I can’t handle seeing someone else get everything they could ever want, while I can’t even get someone who wants to spend more than five minutes speaking with me.”

A hero that doesn’t get everything they want.

Gai’s focus returned to the book he was holding. Through all of his mythology classes he’d always found himself thinking one thing over and over again.

The god of storms always gets the unhappy ending.

Even with a mortal lover and an immortal lover, it always seemed like the hero of these stories always got the short end of the stick. Someone would die, or there would be a goodbye at the end of the story.

It always seemed to him as though nothing ever worked out, even though the focus of the story was a god. Someone who everyone could understand getting exactly what he wanted. 

“Here,” he gave in and held the book out to Kakashi. “If that’s what you want, then I think this will be the perfect book for you.”

Levelling his eyes on the book, Kakashi took a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

“Well, I haven’t read it myself,” he shrugged. “But I know a bit about the subject and while there is romance in some of the fables I can confidently say that it never ends the same way that your romance novels do.”

Lifting his hands, Kakashi took hold of the book and slowly extracted it from Gai’s grasp without any struggle. “It is beautiful,” he whispered as his eyes traced over the golden letters that formed the title. “And it’ll take a while to get through.”

“A week, or maybe two if you take it slow,” Gai snickered at his own terrible joke. He knew Kakashi was a fast reader, but with university and every other responsibility that came with life there was no way he’d finish the book before his next visit to the little bookshop. “But there’s no rush. Either way I’ll have another book for you next week.”

He’d keep the one he’d already saved for Kakashi, just in case he decided to return to the genre he loved so much. If not, he was sure to find something else. There was a whole bookshop to look through, and a whole slew of topics he knew Kakashi would enjoy. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he grinned. “And, Kakashi,” familiar black eyes stared at him, waiting for him to say whatever would come out of his mouth next. “There is someone out there for you.”

The sound Kakashi made was somewhere between a huff and a snort. Unattractive if it had come from anyone else, but easily one of the most beautiful sounds Gai had ever heard, if only because it was Kakashi who made it. “Can you point them towards me if you see them?” 

Thinking about it, he smiled. “I think I can manage to do that, yes.”

It would take a lot of work, and a whole lot of confidence that he seemed to lack when it came to opening his heart to Kakashi, but Gai was a determined man. If there was something he needed to do, he would do it. He just needed time to figure out how to do it, and time for Kakashi to heal from the hurt that was plaguing his heart today.  

“Until then,” he turned back towards the front of the store and began walking, a smile stretching across his face when he heard Kakashi falling into step behind him. “I have doughnuts and tea from the shop down the street, and a lot of work to do. Think you’re up to keeping me company?”

Behind him, Kakashi laughed for the first time that evening. A small, endearing laugh that awoke a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies inside of Gai’s stomach. They bounced around, fluttering and twisting around until Gai could no longer hold back his own laughter.

“Gai,” Kakashi caught up to him with one giant step and gently bumped their shoulders together. “I’m always happy to keep you company. Especially when you feed me.”

[thistledropkick]

So Hiromu's All Star Junior Festival was a great show, but one aspect that really stuck out to me was the complete lack of the standard New Japan branding.

New Japan like any promotion has a pretty specific presentation style, most famously their "cerulean blue" mat. But the mat for this show was black, with ジュニア最高 "Juniors are the best" hand-painted on it by the participating wrestlers. The corner pads are also usually NJPW and sponsor-branded on NJPW shows, but these were replaced with plain corner pads for this show. The blue and branded ring aprons and entrance curtains were also replaced with plain black. Even the event's t-shirt lacks any overt NJPW branding - the NJPW logo does appear, second after CMLL, on the back, but only alongside every other participating promotion's logo. The title of and logo for the show also don't include anything about New Japan.

This was such a great way to make the event feel less like a "New Japan, with other visiting wrestlers" show and more like a true festival of Junior Heavyweight wrestling.

And the choice to use both ring announcers and referees, and even some guest commentary, from other promotions throughout the show added to this feeling.

[logomatsireland]

Logomats: Small Mats, Big Branding Impact Introduction: Logo mats may seem like simple floor coverings, but they possess a remarkable ability to make a big branding impact. These mats, often found at entrances to businesses, display a company's logo, name, or unique design. Their influence goes beyond aesthetics:

First Impressions: Logomats welcome visitors with a professional touch, creating a positive first impression. Brand Recognition: They reinforce brand recognition by displaying logos consistently throughout a space. Cleanliness: Logomats help keep interiors clean by trapping dirt and moisture from shoes. Versatility: They can be placed anywhere, from entryways to reception areas, enhancing a brand's visibility. In the world of branding, logo mats are small yet powerful ambassadors, leaving a lasting mark on anyone who enters.